Harry Potter and the Veela Nation
by PD31
Summary: With darkness threatening to rise in the east, the Ministry of Magic is in search of allies. The Minister sends one of his diplomats to seek out what could be a key ally in an ensuing conflict but not all of his countrymen fear the darkness.
1. Chapter 1

**Harry Potter and the Veela Nation  
**

 **By PD31**

 **Rating: M**

 **Summary: With darkness threatening to rise in the east, the Ministry of Magic is in search of allies. The Minister sends one of his diplomats to seek out what could be a key ally in an ensuing conflict but not all of his countrymen fear the darkness.  
**

 **Disclaimer: JK owns the Harry Potter world and all the characters in it; I've just borrowed them for this story.**

 **This is an Alternative Universe story, there was no Voldemort, no prophecy. As such, certain things are rather different but as ever, no world is perfect.**

* * *

Chapter 1

 _Flat 27, Fountain House,_

 _120a Mount Street, London_

 _Wednesday 1_ _st_ _October 2003_.

"Harry Potter, get your arse out of bed and into the office." The large, silver stag patronus had galloped majestically through the wall of the building and into the lone bedroom of the dwelling; it illuminated the room, waking the two occupants of the bed and delivered its terse message before fading and disappearing. Harry groaned as he woke; his weight shifted, pressing him against the feminine body in whose bed he currently lay. _What was her name again?_ his fogged and recently awoken mind wondered. _Daphne? Tracey maybe?_ In truth he had no idea, just that she was an old acquaintance from school and they'd met, or more accurately reacquainted, at the soiree last night.

"Who was that?" The woman's voice mumbled sleepily, wondering at the rarely seen apparition that had just intruded her home and bedroom.

"Our esteemed Minister," Harry's voice was equally groggy. He yawned. "Dear old dad," he added fondly. He draped an arm over her and began to lightly caress the bare flesh of her back. "Why don't we forget about him for a while?"

The unidentified lady smiled and snuggled closer to him, all thoughts of further sleep forgotten. Their lips fused and her hand found its way between his legs and stroked his rapidly hardening member.

"NOW!" The patronus was back; the woman gave a slight start, unfortunately yanking Harry's manhood a little and causing him to yelp. This in turn caused the girl to fuse her apology with a loud laugh; it wasn't the suave, cool effect that the young diplomat was hoping for really.

"Looks like I need to get up then," he lamented, rolling out of the bed and rummaging through his clothes until he found his wand. He used it to cast some quick cleansing charms on himself and pulled on his underwear, followed by his crumpled dress robes.

"Do you have time for a shower?" He heard her voice from behind him; turning his head he saw her standing on the other side of the bed, naked, beautiful, enticing, inviting and with a towel draped over one shoulder. "I'm about to take one," she purred suggestively.

"If I took a shower with you we'd have _a lot_ of interruptions from the Minister," he shook his head reluctantly. She pouted. "I know," he continued, "maybe tomorrow morning?" he asked in a brighter voice before walking around the bed and gathering her into his arms, kissing her tenderly.

"Sounds good. Where will I see you tonight?"

"We could have drinks in the Leaky Cauldron and then dinner and dancing in muggle London," he offered; his hostess wrinkled her nose distastefully. _Ah, so she_ was _one of the Slytherins_. His suspicions had been confirmed. "Anyway, can I use your floo?"

"Anything for the Ministry," her tone was officious and deferential, as befitting a Pureblood princess but her smirk belied her manner. "Especially one of our leading diplomats." Harry responded in kind, giving a slight bow before grinning back and heading to the living room, where he took a pinch of powder and lobbed it into the fireplace. The girl watched from the doorway as he stepped into the fireplace and blew her a kiss, pushing a touch of magic into it; she swore she could actually feel his lips on hers as it reached her. "The Ministry of Magic!" he cried, disappearing in a flash of green. The young woman smiled at the sensation (and memories of the previous night) and went to take a shower. It was only much later that she realised they hadn't fixed a time for meeting up.

 _Ministry of Magic_

"Nice arrival, Potter," a cold voice drawled mirthfully as Harry slid gracelessly out of the floo point in the Ministry atrium. "How have you _never_ managed to work out how to use floo travel after all this time in _our_ world?" He spat the word out to leave no doubt about his opinions of the half-blood. When Harry reflected on this he would decide it was yet another reason why Draco Malfoy had never been able to enter the Ministry as an employee.

"Au contraire, Malfoy," he ignored the jibe and claims of superiority from the blond half-wit, calmly brushed down his robes and stood, looking down on his long-time nemesis from Hogwarts (and Beauxbatons, where they had both been among a group of Hogwarts students to spend their 5th year, as part of the Diplomatic Exchange programme set up by the British and French magical governments). "Tell me," he smirked, moving closer to the Pureblood ponce and lowering his voice, "if _you_ had spent last night with a lovely young lady and were wearing day-old dress robes due to _your father the Minister summoning you_ ," he ignored Malfoy's jealous scowl, "but wanted to disguise that fact that you hadn't been able to get home to change, wouldn't _you_ take advantage of the fact that *everybody* knows you can't travel properly by floo?" He patted him dismissively on the shoulder and sauntered over to the bank of lifts. Malfoy frowned murderously at his retreating back; it had been an awful day for the Malfoy family and its allies when Potter's father had been elected Minister and immediately started forging his own alliances and coalitions, sidelining Malfoy senior and his influential, like-minded colleagues and leading the magical community in (in their opinion) the wrong direction (despite the fact that he, personally, had agreed with and benefited from the Diplomatic Exchange that Potter Senior had brought in). Draco had been reduced to skulking around the Ministry, trying to sow dissent against James Potter's stance on various issues in an attempt to uncover a like-minded and meaningful challenger to him and generate enough support in the Wizengamot to sack him once said challenger was in place.

Malfoy shook his head as he thought on the Minister's mudblood of an assistant; she, like James, had been a leading diplomat and had decided to give it up when Potter got the top job. Of course there was an 'understanding' with the new head of the Department of International Cooperation that jobs would be waiting for them when they were no longer involved in running the Ministry (and their assistance in getting ousting the previous incumbent and ensuring that the current Headmistress was ensconced at Hogwarts meant she would surely find them Professorships there if they preferred to go for a life outside of the Ministry and politics) but still, giving up a prime job to be little more than a receptionist? That just proved to him that he was right; mudbloods had no ambition, no sense of the importance of the key jobs in the magical world. In short, they had no business being there (and had they not been, he lamented, then Harry bloody Potter would never have been born in the first place and all would be much better in Draco's world).

 _Minister's Office,_

 _First Floor_

Harry exited the lift and arrived outside his father's office. He straightened up, brushed down his robes again in an attempt to straighten them and walked in, trying to flatten his hair as he did; he was greeted by some familiar laughter.

"You're fighting a losing battle there dear," Lily Potter told him, "just like your dad," she added fondly. Then she looked him up and down. "Look at the state of you," she shook her head.

"Yes, I had a bad floo exit," he told her humbly; his mother gave him a searching look but he didn't quail. She shook her head again though.

"You'd better go in," she told him. He knocked cautiously on the door and, following his dad's invitation, entered.

"Ah, Harry, here at last," Minister James Potter looked up from his desk, waving his son into the seat opposite him without taking note of his appearance. Harry slipped into the chair.

"Hi dad," son greeted father jovially.

"I called you in," James linked his hands and rested his forearms on the desk in front of him, "because we have an important assignment for you – one that I have to warn you many in the department have… misgivings about giving to you given your youth and lack of diplomatic experience, but nonetheless I think you're the best person for the job."

"Sounds interesting," an intrigued Harry sat upright, waiting for more details.

"You are to go," the Minister continued, "to see if you can make contact with a European Veela enclave." Harry's eyes lit up; fortunately James was looking for some parchment at the time and missed it. "We _think_ that there is one in eastern France or western Switzerland," as usual in an informal discussion among family, friends or non-hardliners James used non-magical national boundaries as they were rather more descriptive than magical borders would have been, "certainly that area of what is magical France; we're not sure _exactly_ where, basically because our French counterparts don't like them too much so there is little desire on their part to find them."

"There's also quite a lot of ancient hostility between witches and Veela," Harry added, remembering some of the history he'd been taught at Beauxbatons and picked up from the friends he had made, "so they were pushed to the margins of the Wizarding World on the continent. Of course we also have to contend with the fact that they were expelled from the British Isles altogether centuries ago and we don't know how much ill-feeling and resentment has been handed down through the generations."

"I knew it was a good idea talking to Maxime and the French Minister when they were over for the Tri-Wizard tournament," James remarked with an air of self-congratulation, thinking back on his son's fourth year when said competition had been held at Hogwarts. Sadly for him and his plans of magical harmony, the Russian Ministry had elected not to send a representative; it was a decision that had helped alert James and Lily to the hint of rising political turmoil in Eastern Europe and led ultimately to his decision to campaign for the Minister's job and to the reforms he was pushing through with the aim of securing unity and equality between wizards and witches of different blood statuses and also forging closer links with the French magical populous. This unity, he felt, would be vital in the event of a coming conflict and, with the historic conflict and disagreement between the two countries he felt it would be better for the links to come via the new generation, hence Harry and his contacts.

"So your first job," the Minister continued, "is going to be to talk to your contacts in the French Ministry, see what they know and then go and find the enclave to make first contact." He looked at his son; he really was the spitting image of himself at that age, though with his wife's green eyes, "I cannot stress _enough_ the importance of this venture," he continued. "With mutterings of groups and countries coming together in Eastern Europe, possibly uniting under a single leader, it could shift the balance of power across the continent. We _need_ to build up our allies right now, especially some who are a little closer to the area where they could provide us with information about what's going on and who we could support on their border if the need arises, to stop the conflict coming to _our_ borders. If this leader ends up turning dark… well, we need to be in a position to stop them as quickly as we can."

"I understand," Harry nodded. "What about the Veela in Eastern Europe?" he asked suddenly; James looked at him. "Remember when Bulgaria were here for the Quidditch World Cup Final? They had Veela mascots."

"Which is why we need to make contact with some of them," James confirmed, smiling at his son seeming to put the pieces together.

"Because the western Veela might be friendlier or more sympathetic," Harry suggested, "and if they were allied to us then _they_ could be more likely to talk to the other enclaves further east and either give us friends or even spies inside the Eastern bloc."

"Precisely," the Minister's smile broadened. "But first things first – Go to the Department of Magical Research," he instructed his son, "they've been working on some items to help you track them down. Then see what you can find out from the French. And _when_ you find the Veela," he said firmly, "I'm authorising you to issue a personal apology from me on behalf of the British Ministry of Magic for past treatment of their race." When Harry nodded his assent and understanding, his father gave him his most piercing look. "I've given you my _personal_ backing for this, Harry. _Don't_ let me down."

"I won't, dad," he promised before taking his leave. James watched him go; he had to admit that he, himself had minor concerns about entrusting the mission to his relatively inexperienced son – well, he gave a rueful smile, Harry was experienced in _some_ ways if the rumours were to be believed (and he was pretty sure they were all at least mostly true). Fortunately his son was a very charming young man (which would be useful when dealing with the Veela) and tended not to upset the young ladies he'd wooed, being rather more suave than his best friend was. It was one of the reasons why James had ended up as Minister; not only was his wife a first-generation witch and their son had spent time in France with French students of his own age (which would help him track down the enclave in the first place) and thus the Ministry's first couple could claim to be a symbol of what he was trying to achieve, as a result of their sons' antics James was far more popular with the other departmental heads than his Deputy, Frank Longbottom.

It wasn't that Neville was a bad kid, James mused, quite the opposite. He was a nice guy and was one of the lead Aurors on merit (although the Longbottom name _had_ given him a leg-up when he'd first enlisted) but he lacked Harry's charisma and easy way, meaning that while his son could be quite the playboy, Neville was unable to do so without upsetting the girls. James grinned at the thought that this meant that his son must already be quite the diplomat to have avoided leaving a string of scorned lovers in his wake.

"Will he be ok, do you think?" Lily asked her husband as she let herself into the office.

"I'm sure he will. You know, Lily, if this comes off it could be a _major_ coup for our plans for this country."

"You mean it could shatter the Pureblood dogma by introducing part-Humans to the British bloodlines?" his wife asked coyly.

"You know me so well," he smiled at his wife. "Absolutely. Not only are they non-British magicals but also Veela. It would demolish the arguments of Malfoy and his sect if we had prominent families mixing with foreign families – and provide some much-needed new blood to the British lines."

"It's high risk," she cautioned. "If our opponents get wind of the idea too early they could cause _a lot_ of problems for you."

"Yes but we already have some marriages from the exchange programme with Beauxbatons which we can highlight as successes of the programme," he pointed out. "Admittedly most of the young couples have opted for France over Britain but it's certainly made _their_ Ministry more sympathetic to us – even if they still dislike much of our Wizengamot and its prejudices."

"Which is why we need them to change, and these programmes are the best way to do it," she agreed.

"Plus I think it would be rather nice to have a Veela for a daughter-in-law," he grinned, causing Lily to roll her eyes. "Frank agrees with that sentiment."

"It would certainly sort the boys out," Lily chuckled. "Being on the receiving end of a couple of those fireballs would keep their eyes from wandering."

James winced at the thought for a moment before joining in his wife's laughter. "Have you heard from the girls recently?" he asked.

"Of course not," she sighed as she looked at him, "you _know_ they're a pair of daddy's girls and always write to _you_."

"Oh yeah," he grinned. "I wonder how Rose is enjoying being Head Girl."

"I think she's only doing it half the time," Lily revealed; her husband looked surprised. "I overheard her saying Heather should do it half the time as well since nobody at school can tell them apart." James laughed out loud at this.

"Oh dear, that will keep old Minnie on her toes."

"I was hoping it wouldn't be too much to ask for _one_ of my kids to be able to behave," Lily lamented. "I should have known it was though, what with Prongs as their father and those other three clowns acting as uncles." She suppressed a pang of sadness that the kids' _actual_ aunt and uncle wanted nothing to do with them, though their cousin was quietly rather more sympathetic to magic users (as he'd said several years ago when the families met for the usual strained Christmas celebration, what eleven-year-old boy _doesn't_ think that magic is cool?).

"Not forgetting the devious witch they have for a mother," James smirked, bringing her from her musings; the Minister leaned in and kissed his wife. "What say we go for an early, and long, lunch?" he asked, kissing the redhead again.

"The Minister's word is law," she replied in a forced meek voice; he took her hand and they headed out, James locked the office door behind them with a wave of his wand.

 _Department of Magical Research,_

 _Third Floor_

Harry quickly called back home for a shower and change into fresh robes before returning to the Ministry. He made a far more graceful exit from the floo (Malfoy was nowhere to be seen this time) and took the lift to the 3rd floor of the building, which was home to the new Department of Magical Research.

The department was one of James Potter's more radical ideas (yet one which had passed with barely a comment as it was fairly uncontroversial, most 'traditionalist' – i.e. Pureblood bigot – members seemed to see it as little more than a dumping ground for oddballs and the token mudbloods they were had been forced to employ under the blood status quota system, so they were not even _too_ upset with the identity of its head, provided its budget remained suitably low).

The low budget had turned out not to be too much of a problem. The first-generation population, including Lily, were familiar with the non-magical government's concept of the 'Public-Private Partnership' and had quietly implemented it for this department (the bigots scoffed at the idea but saw it as people who didn't agree with their viewpoint wasting their money, so they weren't going to object).

Basically the department's funding was mostly private (the Potters and Longbottoms were the major investors; Sirius _would_ have but his 'lack of Pureblood pride' in his parents' eyes had left him marginalised within the family; his brother Regulus controlled the family finances – and the Wizengamot seat – and he was rather more hostile to the minister than his older brother was. In fact Regulus was seen by the Malfoys as their standard bearer and future Minister, once they deposed the present incumbent) and profits from their developments were split between the Ministry and the benefactors. The bigot faction seemed not to know just how smart some of the people in this department were, or how much money there was out there to be made, otherwise James was sure that the funding arrangements would be rather different – or that the objections would be swallowed in the name of profit.

"Good morning Miss Granger," Harry smiled as he entered the main office (which was smaller than the wardrobe in his bedroom but it was a start at least for the fledgling department; as usual for the office its windows had been magically charmed so it seemed to be drab and raining outside). He strolled over to the other desk crammed in there and smiled at the witch behind it. "And the ever-lovely Miss Lovegood of course, how are you both?"

"Harry," Hermione Granger snorted, setting down the item she was fiddling with and turning to him with the look of exasperation she usually wore around the Minister's son when he was in this sort of mood, "we've known each other since we were eleven; there's no need for formalities."

"And since we know each other so well," Luna Lovegood piped up in her usual dreamy tones, "you can always call me Luna – or something more personal if you prefer," her expression was completely at odds with her words as she continued to look calm and serene. Hermione's cheeks acquired a definite tinge of pink while Harry was completely unruffled by what she had to say.

"Minister Potter instructed me to come here," he spoke as if neither of the girls had said anything, "as he said you had certain items that would aid me in the diplomatic mission that he has entrusted to me."

Hermione rolled her eyes before reaching into one of her desk drawers and pulling out a couple of items.

" _This_ is a rudimentary tracking device," she explained. "While the Beauxbatons were here in our fourth year there was one student whose mother was apparently a Veela; you remember Marcel?"

Harry nodded; the blond final year student hadn't been selected for the tournament but had instead devoted his time to helping certain Hogwarts students (including Harry) improve their skills regarding dealings with the female of the species. He had thus been a hero to many of the younger boys and Harry could trace several of his conquests back to the Frenchman's lessons (he was also indebted to a number of the witches he'd met during his year in France who had been surprisingly willing to help the young Briton to hone his techniques).

"Well, he had a haircut or two over the year at Hogwarts and we kept some of his hair."

"We?" Harry smirked. "Do you make a habit of collecting people's hair?"

Hermione blushed again before turning defiant. "Well _if_ you'd paid attention in Potions you'd have known it was an important ingredient in polyjuice potion."

"That's the Hermione we know and love," Harry chuckled, "always keen to defend classes, though you _do_ know old Sluggy was a big admirer of my skills in that class and I _did_ get an 'O' at NEWT level," he reminded her smugly before grinning devilishly. "So, how much of _my_ hair do you have?" He leaned on her desk and she turned a deeper shade of red. "Or if you don't have any I could give you _something else_ ," he offered suggestively, causing her to splutter incoherently; he looked over his shoulder at winked at Luna; the blonde had abandoned her dreamy nature and was grinning at the scene.

"Anyway," Hermione continued briskly, "we also have a couple of other things we've been working on. The shield hat," she handed him a black bowler hat, "will protect you from minor hexes cast at your head."

"Yeah I'm not wearing that when traipsing through France," he handed it back to her. When her face fell he clarified, "It's not that I don't appreciate it but I'd look a complete idiot scouring the French countryside in that. Could it be adapted to turn my glasses into a shield? And maybe my robes – since they'd be more likely to fire something at my body than my head?"

"That's actually a good idea," Hermione conceded.

"Always the tone of surprise, Miss Granger," he grinned.

"Well it _is_ a rarity," she shot back with her own smirk.

"Ooh, point for Granger," Luna piped up happily; Harry turned and glared at his ex while she smiled back serenely.

"So if this has Marcel's hair in it," he gestured to the device he'd been given, "do we know it will track _all_ Veela and not just lead me to him?"

"Well, _he's_ not a Veela, _obviously_ ," Hermione retorted before she could stop herself; she looked at Harry.

"Right, he said his grandmother had had to choose between her husband and the nation and she chose her husband. So that makes him only a quarter-Veela?"

"Not quite," Luna spoke up. "Veela are mitochondrial – it's inherited from the mother. So his mum was Veela but he's human, albeit with some dominant traits."

"Like his hair," Harry nodded.

"Correct," Hermione looked from one to the other, "which is why we can use it in this tracker. It detects the Veela genetic material and points you in its direction."

"Right," he nodded his understanding. "Well, thank you for that, and thank the Weasley twins for the shields for me," he told them. "What?" He looked at their surprised faces. "You thought I _didn't_ know who was responsible for researching what around here? Anyway," he nodded to the girls, "I'll drop some robes and a pair of glasses by this afternoon. How quickly can they be charmed?"

"We should have them ready by tomorrow morning if you can," Hermione replied grudgingly.

"Thank you very much ladies," he nodded to them before walking to the door; he turned back to the room and smiled at Hermione before blowing a kiss to Luna as he left. Like the one earlier in the day, he pushed some magic into it and left the feel of his lips on the blonde's.

Hermione shook her head as he left; ever since meeting Harry on their first day at Hogwarts she'd always loved their banter (especially on the occasions when he wasn't being an arrogant arse) and had often wondered whether there could ever be anything between them, if she was being honest she still _did_ , particularly as she was 'between boyfriends' at the moment. She knew that his upbringing meant he had no prejudices about her being a first generation witch (as his mother was one) despite his Purebloodesque tendency to strut around like he owned the whole world. No, the only thing that concerned her was Harry's reputation as a ladies' man; as she had only just been reminded of the past he shared with Luna she turned to her deputy department leader.

"What was it like, dating Harry?" she asked curiously.

Luna sighed; she was looking off into space absently but, Hermione knew by now, that was a fairly normal thing for the blonde to do, especially when she was lost in thought. "It was great while it lasted," she said eventually, "I just wish we'd been together longer – but he was away too much, being a diplomat, doing diplomaty things, so we ended up drifting apart. Fortunately we've stayed really good friends as I wouldn't want to lose his friendship."

 _Away being a diplomat and bedding foreign women_ , Hermione strongly suspected, given the boy's reputation. _Still, maybe the right woman will be able to change his ways_. She smiled at the familiar fantasy before returning to her work, making notes on a sheet of official parchment ready to send to Fred and George Weasley once Harry returned with his equipment for modifying.

Having left the office, Harry thought of spending the afternoon catching up with the young lady from last night. Alas, he still couldn't remember her name or, for that matter, did he know where she lived (she'd apparated them to her flat, partially in order to keep its location secret from him). He also realised that he hadn't fixed a time for meeting the mystery girl, though he pondered on heading to _The_ _Leaky Cauldron_ at some point during the evening to see if she showed up. In the meantime he thought he'd call in on his best friend.

 _Auror Department,_

 _5_ _th_ _Floor_

"Hi Nev." Neville looked up from his desk where he was busy filling in a report for his boss, Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Harry, how are you?"

"Not bad old boy, not bad at all. In fact, I've just been given a new assignment."

"Really? Where are you headed?"

Neville's jaw dropped as Harry disclosed his aims. He also gave his friend a heads-up about his father's offer of Aurors to help protect the Veela from attack if necessary; Neville promised his oldest friend that he would be at the front of any force called upon to help Harry in his mission.

"You're going to be out of the country, Mr Potter?" Amelia Bones, Neville's boss and head of the DMLE had caught the end of the conversation.

"Yes Madame Bones," he confirmed. "For an unspecified period," he shrugged, "I guess I'll be back when I'm done."

"Susan will be most disappointed to hear you're going," she commented, thinking of her niece who still spoke highly of Harry.

"I'm sure Neville could comfort her," he threw his friend a glance and a smirk, "she'd probably prefer that."

Madame Bones' eye twitched around her trademark monocle while Neville quailed at her reaction; he hadn't become aware of Susan's crush and hankering for him until the end of their time at Hogwarts, when it was too late for him to act on it. Clearly, though, something in his past actions had been discussed at family get-togethers and he had drawn her aunt's ire as a result.

"Later, Nev," he called cheerily, rushing from the room to go home for a shower before trying to meet his ladyfriend, and leaving his best friend chuckling nervously at his rather annoyed boss.

 _The Leaky Cauldron,_

 _Charing Cross Road  
_

Daphne Greengrass strutted into the pub; she was there more in hope than expectation that Harry would turn up but wanted to be there in case he did. She joined her old schoolmate Tracey Davis at a table and the two shared a couple of drinks while they chatted about what was going on in their lives.

Every time the door opened Daphne threw a glance at it; she didn't want to look _too_ eager (or desperate) but really was hoping that Harry would show. When he finally did, her face lit up, something Tracey noticed immediately and followed her gaze to the door.

"Looks like your date has arrived, Daph," Tracey teased (slightly to Harry's relief as he caught the name, helping him to identify who his mystery lover was along with putting a name to her friend as he remembered them being best friends at school). "Hello Harry," she greeted him cordially as he sauntered over to their table. She then stood up. "I'll leave you two to it," she told Daphne with a knowing smirk.

"Miss Davis," he nodded chivalrously to her before taking the seat she'd just vacated. "Hello Daphne," he took her hand and kissed it.

"I wasn't sure you'd show," she commented.

"We agreed a date this morning didn't we?" he asked with a hint of surprise in his tone.

"Yes but you never said when."

"I know, I realised that when I got to the Ministry. Anyway, we're both here now so no harm done," he flashed his smile at her; the girl felt herself melting just a little bit more. "What say we have dinner then go somewhere for some fun," he then turned his most charming smile on her, "then back to your place for some _more_ fun?"

Daphne's heart rate doubled; she was on the brink of telling him to skip the first two parts of the plan when her stomach gave a small and most unladylike growl, causing her to agree to dinner, though she barely paid any heed to what she was actually eating.

Harry paid the bill before taking her hand and leading her out into muggle London.

 _Flat 27, Fountain House,_

 _120a Mount Street, London_

Harry's plans to dance the evening away with his date hit an unforeseen snag; they had been at Mahiki barely an hour when she decided she couldn't wait any longer and dragged him out of the club. Ducking down a quiet side street she apparated them back to her flat and pounced on him, kissing him with urgent passion. Harry's hands were wrapped around her back and quickly began loosening her dress, sliding it down her body until gravity did the rest and it pooled around her feet, leaving her clad in only a small pair of black knickers. As his mouth was still busy kissing hers, his hands moved around to her chest and began fondling her bare breasts while hers began unbuttoning his shirt and then ran over his exposed chest. He took his left hand from her right breast, took her right with it and led her into the bedroom they'd slept in the previous night (his mind vaguely noting that this would be the first time in a while that he'd spent two consecutive nights in the same girl's bed – not since he split up with Luna). They reached the end of her bed and he slid her knickers down her legs before quickly shedding his own trousers and underpants; the two then fell onto the bed together.

Harry smiled as he entered the girl; despite her urgency he was determined to savour every moment – not knowing how long his mission would take he didn't know when he'd next get the chance to enjoy time with a willing young lady so he made sure that they made love slowly and passionately. Once they were both sated he fell asleep in her arms.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading; I hope you enjoyed the opening chapter of this story. PD  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Hello everyone and thank you for clicking on this chapter.  
**

 **A quick note about Chapter 1; a few reviewers have noted comparisons between Harry and James Bond. That certainly wasn't my intention but I can understand people seeing them. Harry certainly isn't a hard-drinking spy in this story but he does have some of Bond's suave nature I guess.**

 **Anyway, a huge thank you to everyone who read and reviewed last time. On with the story...**

* * *

Chapter 2

 _Flat 27, Fountain House,_

 _120a Mount Street, London, United Kingdom  
_

 _Thursday, 2_ _nd_ _October 2003_

Unlike the previous day there was no rude awakening for Harry. Instead he was gently roused by a pair of soft lips against his own and a hand exploring his body. He opened his eyes and smiled as he saw Daphne looking down at him.

"Good morning," he smiled.

"Hi," she returned.

"I think we might get that shower this morning," he declared.

"Are you in a hurry?"

"Not particularly."

"Good, we have plenty of time before we get there then."

Eventually the couple did take their shower; Harry then helped Daphne make breakfast, only to give a rueful sigh as he finished eating.

"I need to go into the office soon," he complained. "I have a new assignment to start today."

"Oh, is it taking you anywhere?"

"Yes. to France," he replied. "There's a… group we think are living in there, unknown to the French government and the Minister wants me to find them and make contact with them."

"Why you?"

"Unlike most in the Department, I speak French after that Diplomatic Exchange programme when we were at school."

"Don't remind me," she groaned, still rather annoyed with her parents that they had deemed sending either her or her sister to France for a year would constitute a waste of money. "I wish I'd been able to go." When he gave her a sympathetic look but didn't respond, she asked, "When will you be back?"

"When the mission is over is all I can tell you," he shrugged helplessly. "It could be just a few days or it could be a lot longer."

"So this is it?" She sounded sad.

"For now, I'm afraid so. If you're still fighting the wizards off you when I get back then we'll see," he grinned; she laughed despite herself.

"I'll see you when you get back," she told him. "Good luck, Harry."

With a smile and a nod of thanks, he apparated back to his own home to get ready for the day.

 _Department of Magical Research,_

 _Third Floor, Ministry of Magic_

"Good morning ladies," Harry jovially greeted Luna and Hermione as he entered their shoe box of an office.

"Somebody's happy," Hermione commented, looking up and sparing him a brief glance before returning to her work.

"He probably got laid last night," Luna supplied inconsequentially; when both other pairs of eyes looked questioningly in her direction she added, "Harry always used to look that way any morning after we had spent the night together."

"Thanks Luna," he choked before hastily changing the subject. "Anyway, I was wondering if you had the items that I needed back from the Weasley twins yet."

"They brought them up this morning," Hermione replied, delving into a box by her desk; she handed him the shield-charmed items he'd requested and he traded his glasses for the new pair.

The door opened again leaving the girls briefly thinking Harry was pranking them with a time turner, until the Minister spoke.

"Ah Harry, this is fortuitous. Good morning Granger, Lovegood," he nodded to the two girls.

"Hello Minister Potter, what can we help you with today?" Hermione asked politely.

"Harry mentioned these shield charmed items you were preparing for him to me yesterday and I wanted to see them for myself."

"Here you go," Harry handed his father one of the sets of robes he'd just been given; James quickly pulled them on over his own before permitting his son to cast a _stupefy_ at him; as hoped it bounced off, striking the wall by Hermione's shoulder.

"Watch what you're doing!" she yelped.

"Wow, they're really something," James praised, ignoring Granger's ire and, removing the robes, he handed them back to Harry. "How long are the charms good for?"

"Fred said they should last about a month – shorter if the shield is repeatedly used," Hermione informed them, rather huffily as she was still upset about the rebounding charm.

"Actually that was George," Luna supplied.

"Anyway," her boss continued hotly, "they're good for about a month."

"Remarkable," James scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I must speak to Amelia about these, have them become standard issue for her Aurors."

"They're only good against minor hexes and curses," Hermione cautioned, "they wouldn't stop an unforgivable and a simple _Finite_ would likely cancel them."

"No but precious few wizards or witches would think to do that, or would throw an unforgivable at an Auror; it's mostly petty crime where we get most attacks on our people. Oh, by the way, you didn't tell anybody else about Harry's mission, did you?"

"No," Luna shook her head, "we told the Weasleys the shield charmed items were needed but not _why_?"

"Good, keep it that way."

"What else could they do?" Harry asked thoughtfully. "I mean, could they cast a Disillusionment charm on some robes to make our Aurors invisible?"

" _That_ is a great idea," his father commended. "Invisibility robes would allow our Aurors to sneak into a situation completely undetected and not rely on them being able to cast the charms themselves." He again rued the ineptitude of the previous Hogwarts Headmaster in delivering someone capable of teaching the kids essential spells, particularly defensive spells; it had created a huge mess for him and his Ministry to clean up (another advantage of the Exchange programme was the year of quality teaching some of the kids had received in France).

"Again there's the question of a _Finite_ ," his son added, "If they wore disillusioned robes over their shielded ones would one charm dispel both or not?"

James looked to the two women in the office. "It looks like your team has its next project," he smiled; they both nodded.

"By the way," Hermione remarked, "I have a meeting with a rep from _Gladrags_ next week. I'm sure they'd be interested in stocking charmed robes, especially if we could come up with some sort of recharging station for the charm. That's something else the twins are looking at – not exactly mass producing the way to reapply the charm but certainly making more of them."

"Ok," James nodded, "but please don't mention the invisibility charmed robes just yet; I want them for our Aurors only for the time being."

"Ok," she confirmed.

James motioned to his son and the two Potters left; Luna sighed dreamily as she privately reminisced on their relationship.

"Speaking of invisibility, Harry," the Minister spoke quietly, though the corridor was deserted, "reminded me. Come by my office after lunch before you go and I'll lend you my cloak for your quest. Keep it on you at all times and _don't_ lose it."

Harry readily promised to be careful with it, keeping the excited look off his face; the cloak was a family heirloom, he knew, and he was excited to have it again, having caused no end of trouble at school between it and the Marauder's Map, which his sister Rose now had proud possession of (claiming that as Head Girl she was using it to find people hiding where they shouldn't be; he suspected that was only _part_ of the story though). She and Heather had been most disappointed when their father had reclaimed the cloak, citing his greater need first as a diplomat and then as Minister. Harry's mocking, whiny _it's not fair_ goading of his sisters when they'd learnt they would have no access to James's cloak had led to him having to spend most of that summer hiding from the twins as they tried to hunt him down. On learning _why_ they were upset with their brother their parents had done nothing to dissuade the girls.

 _French Ministry of Magic,_

 _Paris, France_

Having picked up the items from Hermione and Luna, Harry had quickly called in at home again to pack some essentials for his trip before he returned to work, collected the invisibility cloak from his father's office and flooed from the British Ministry to its French counterpart; seeing a number of people there who he recognised from his school days he greeted one of them amiably before asking to be directed to the office of his old friend, Jean-Claude Deveraux, only to be surprisingly informed that M Deveraux and his wife had recently been transferred to the Provincial Office in Lyon.

"Ooh, who did he upset?" Harry grinned; his brunette friend Michelle Dupont sniggered.

"Actually," Michelle told him, "it was a promotion for him; he's in the Council Leader's office and could be running his own province somewhere in a few years."

"Excellent," Harry was pleased for him.

"I'm sure he would love to see you again. I'll see if I can bring him over for a couple of hours."

"Actually Lyon may be more convenient for me," he commented, thinking about the general location his father believed he had to search. "I'll floo there and meet him if that's ok?"

"I will just check. Wait here please." Harry watched admiringly as Michelle walked away from him.

"Close your mouth, M Potter," another brunette slapped his arm playfully as she spotted him and approached.

"Genevive!" he smiled. "Well if you want me to close my mouth you have to stop walking by while looking so lovely," he told her suavely, kissing her cheek.

"Still the charmer," she smiled and shook her head.

"Actually maybe you can help me," he looked at her. "My father has sent me here on official business."

"Very well," the young lady instantly became business-like. "If you would wait here I will see if the Minister can receive you."

Harry nodded his thanks and she departed; Michelle returned, informing Harry that Jean-Claude would see him and he could use her floo to get there. When he explained that he had to see the Minister first, she told him where her office was, wished him luck with a smirk and headed back to work.

Genevive returned. "Your father was in contact earlier; the Minister can see you now," she informed him officiously. "Follow me, please." He nodded and was shown to the Minister's office.

"Ah M Potter," the French Minister stood and offered a hand; Harry shook it.

"Minister Dubois, I trust you are well?" When the French leader nodded curtly Harry went straight down to business. "I trust my father has advised you on the nature of my visit?"

Again the Minister nodded. "I can't think _why_ you English want to meet with them but we do have some whispers and rumours that may provide you with a starting point for your search."

"Anything you can tell us would be appreciated," the young diplomat insisted.

"Talk to our people in Lyon, M Potter, that is our closest office to where these creatures are supposed to be. Just do not expect anything from them."

"I understand your caution," he responded, "but my Minister had high hopes that a deal can be done with them, especially in the current climate."

"Hmm, if you _do_ find them then maybe we could send our vampires there. With luck the Veela blood is toxic to them and that would solve _two_ problems for us."

Harry was disappointed but not overly surprised with the Minister's attitude. He stood up and offered his hand. As it was shaken he managed a polite, dignified, " _Merci, Madame Minister_ ," and left the office, happy at least that he needed to go to Lyon, as he wanted to call in on his old friends there anyway; he made his way to Michelle's office to take the floo to the south of France.

 _Bulgarian Ministry Offices,_

 _Sofia, Bulgaria_

James wasn't the only member of the British Ministry to hear rumours of rising power in eastern Europe. The darker faction of British society had also heard of it though, unlike James, they welcomed and relished the prospect.

"Minister Oblansk," Lucius Malfoy greeted him silkily.

"Malfoy, what brings you here?"

"It's all about what we can do for you and your friends," his language was deferential but his voice was silky and his eyes glinted malevolently. "I hear that you are building an alliance of, shall we say, like-minded wizards and countries to take charge of affairs in Europe."

"What of it? Your Minister will have nothing to do with any such plans," the Bulgarian replied neutrally.

"That mudblood-shagging fool?" Malfoy scoffed; Oblansk lifted his head sharply at the language and the venom with which the words were emitted. "He haemorrhages support by the day. Once we're ready, we will strike and when we have done and replaced Potter with a more… open-minded candidate, our country would look favourably on a partnership with your alliance and help you to civilise the continent."

Oblansk stared at the blond; he knew Malfoy shared the fledgling alliance's ideals and was sure that he could be trusted to promote their cause within Britain, though he would not trust him at all if he gained an actual position of power in Britain or in the command structure of the alliance itself. He also knew what "civilise" meant – enslave (or worse) the mudbloods, leaving Purebloods in their rightful place of running Europe and, ultimately, deposing Europe's muggle governments to create a magic-ruled continent.

"I think you should speak with our friends," he decided.

 _French Ministry of Magic,_

 _Rhône-Alpes District Offices_

 _Lyon, France_

"Jean-Claude," Harry strode out of the floo with hand extended; the man in question rose to greet him and they shook hands. Harry cat his mind back to meeting the boy who'd shown him around Beauxbatons (before teaching him about some of the less 'official' aspects of the French school) and who had become a good friend. They'd lost contact of late, with work, yet it was through work that he was now set to become one of his key contacts in the French government. It had been a surprise when Harry returned to France, the summer after finishing Hogwarts he went to see his old friends (or 'renew acquaintances with potential future colleagues' as he sold it to his parents – though he knew his dad knew _exactly_ what he was doing and why) to see Deveraux and his now wife together; they had fought like cat and dog all the way through school, stories that brought knowing smiles to his parents' faces when he had told them on his return. He had at least been able to attend the wedding the previous year; it had been a spectacular event.

"'Arry, it is good to see you again."

"Likewise my old friend; congratulations on the promotion."

"Thank you. I meant to contact you earlier but this office... it takes up all my time," he apologised; Harry nodded understandingly. "How are things with you?"

"Well that's really why I'm here," he began, taking the seat Jean-Claude offered him and explaining the mission that had been entrusted to him.

"You _want_ to meet with the Veela? Here we have so little to do with them, and many still think it is too much."

"I gathered as much from your Minister," Harry grimaced. "My father, though, feels they would be important allies against the growing powers of the eastern nations," he explained; M Deveraux nodded.

"I can understand that, especially as the Bulgarians use them as a symbol of the country; friendlier ties could help either keep their people from unifying or possibly provide valuable intelligence about what is happening in those countries."

Harry nodded; it was, after all, the exact same reasoning he'd shared with his father. "We would happily share this intelligence with you, especially as any advances from the east would threaten France long before they approached Britain, although I'm not sure your Minister would want it, other than to point your vampires in their direction."

Jean-Claude chuckled. "She is one of the old guard. Rumour has it that her father abandoned her and her mother when she was a child after he met a Veela – not that anyone would ever confirm that you understand," he added hurriedly; Harry grinned and nodded. "While I can understand your aims I have always been taught to be suspicious of the Veela but," he shrugged, "they say that the enemy of my enemy is my friend; I could imagine you having that sort of relationship with them."

"We have… rather more in mind," Harry disclosed. "In fact I'm authorised to offer a squadron of Aurors to help the Veela protect their borders in the event of an invasion."

Jean-Claude whistled. "Your father has given you a lot of power and responsibility." He chuckled. "And they say that nepotism is dead." Harry squirmed a little; Jean-Claude grinned. "Seriously, I wish you luck. I will see what information we have on them and you can collect it from Aimee tomorrow."

"Thank you, your Minister said that the information would be here." He stood to leave before hesitating. "I was wondering though," Jean-Claude looked up questioningly, "what is the _official_ status of their homeland? I mean _if_ I find them in magical France but they're living separately, what are they? Are they French or do they have their own country?"

"Ah, 'Arry, you really _are_ a diplomat now," his friend laughed again. "To us any land within our borders," he gestured to the map of magical Europe on the wall behind him, "is considered a part of France. They would disagree of course, seeing themselves as a separate people rather than French Magical citizens. That they pay no taxes nor take part in the magical community, well it means they are separate at the moment. If we ever met them, there would be… discussions," he said delicately, then shrugged, "or there would be war."

"I shall be careful to keep that in mind, thank you. Oh, one more thing, can you recommend a good hotel around here?"

Harry left the Ministry and headed to the hotel his friend had suggested for him (having declined the offer to stay with Jean-Claude and Aimee). As it catered to both magical and non-magical customers he used the magical entrance before taking the magical lift to the hidden 13th floor. He changed into casual muggle attire before going out into the city itself in search of a restaurant and bar and perhaps, if he was lucky, some company for the night.

 _Russian Ministry Offices,_

 _Kremlin, Moscow, Russia_

"Oblansk?" The Russian Minister looked up as his Bulgarian counterpart, followed by Malfoy, entered the office.

"Ah Karkaroff, good to see you," he responded. "How is young Igor?"

The Russian chuckled. "Still training our army. Many from Durmstrang are ready to step straight into the forces, then it's merely a question of preparing them for combat roles. We have muggle villages in Siberia that are perfect for that," his deep laugh was echoed by the newcomers. "But who is this?" he looked at Malfoy.

"May I present Lucius Malfoy, a British sympathiser."

"What does it want?" Karkaroff asked dismissively; Oblansk relayed the request to the Briton in more polite terms.

"As I told Oblansk I see us as having common aims," Malfoy began, "when my associates take charge of our government we would look fondly on dealings with your alliance."

"Why would we want that?" the Russian asked lazily, switching to English to address Malfoy. "Your wizards have an _extremely_ poor reputation here."

Malfoy looked affronted. "One thing Potter _has_ done is to improve training of Britain's Aurors," he explained grudgingly. "When we take charge of them I'm sure you will find them more than adequate additions to your forces." When Karkaroff looked unconvinced he continued, "My spies also tell me that his Department of Magical Research is bearing some fruit. I have a plan to gain access to their work and I'm sure you would find some of their developments _useful_."

"Is that all? Come back, Malfoy, when you have something important to say – when you have influence in your government, control over able wizards or actual items to show us."

Lucius quailed under the terse dismissal. He looked to Oblansk for support but the Bulgarian clearly knew who was in charge; he stood staring at Malfoy until he left the room. As he made to follow, the Russian called.

"Oblansk?" He paused and turned. " _Don't_ waste my time again."

The cowed Bulgarian nodded and took his leave, happy to be going separate ways to Malfoy after that reception.

 _Department of Magical Law Enforcement,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

"Longbottom!" Amelia Bones' voice rang out across the department. Neville shot to his feet and bustled out of his office and into the central area.

"Yes boss?" he asked her nervously; she was the only one who could make the young Auror leader quail.

"We've just had a report of a break-in at the Perks home in Harrogate. You're to take a team and apprehend the culprits."

"Certainly," he nodded, though he suppressed a reasonable degree of trepidation. He tapped his badge and spoke. "Smith, Jordan, Corner – you're with me. Report to the floo in two minutes."

"The Perks' floo is open, Longbottom. Go directly there."

"Yes Madam Bones," he confirmed, hurrying from the room; by the time he reached the floo his team were waiting. He took a pinch of powder, tossed it into the flames, stepped among the emerald embers and cried, "Perks!" His three subordinates copied his action.

 _Perks Home,_

 _Pannal, Harrogate_

Neville stepped out of the floo into the kitchen to see three members of the family crouched behind the counter. The youngest of the three let out a disgusted huff as she saw him.

"Did they _have_ to send _him_?" Sally-Anne complained; Neville wondered if Amelia had sent him deliberately, knowing the ill-feeling that existed between the two since the end of their fling – with him not being on Susan's Christmas card list either he suspected it was a strong possibility. In fairness to his boss, Neville's family lived closer to the Perks than any other major wizarding family so perhaps it was just that this was a local case.

The squad leader bit back a retort as the others strode through; instead he turned to Sally-Ann's father. "Where are they, sir?"

"They forced the front door maybe a minute ago; we think there are four or five of them, including a couple of quite hefty ones, which is why we hid here. They haven't gone upstairs yet, I don't think – probably still in the Living Room."

"You've done the right thing, sir; leave it to us," he promised. His former lover snorted disbelievingly.

"Oh please, if _Longbottom_ is going in there then _I_ am," she stood to join them; her father quickly stunned her.

"I'm _not_ risking my little girl's life in there," he told his shocked wife. "She can yell at me all she likes later." Neville just nodded before motioning to his team; he quietly opened the door and crept into the hallway, casting anti-apparition spells on it.

"Lock down the floo so they can't escape that way," he whispered; Mr Perks nodded and complied. Once the Aurors had left the kitchen he magically locked the door and revived his daughter. Neville heard Sally-Ann cut off in mid-rant and assumed that, thankfully, her father had cast a silencing charm on her – not least because the argument would have drawn the thieves' attention to them.

The team crept down the hallway; Neville whispered a _Homenum Revelio_ spell, indicating two bodies either side of the door and with two others inside the room; from the racket being made they were ransacking the place in search of anything remotely valuable. He signalled to Michael Corner to be ready and edged silently to the other side of the corridor, from where he could see one of the thieves stood just inside the room but looking towards the back wall, rather than the door.

Neville fired a silent stunner, dropping the goon; this drew a gasp from the doorway and he know the element of surprise had gone. He rushed to the doorway, meeting the second thug as he did; a second stunner put him down as well before the quartet rushed into the room itself.

"Drop your wands!" he demanded of the two thieves inside. One of them tried to apparate, swearing loudly when she failed to do so. Corner took advantage of this to stun her, while Lee Jordan re-cast the stunners on the muscle, as they were showing signs of stirring.

The fourth of the burglars, seeing himself hopelessly outnumbered, rolled his wand over to Neville and allowed him to put magic-inhibiting cuffs on him. He was handed over to Zacharias Smith while Neville picked up the red-haired girl and hauled her to the kitchen door. Hearing his voice, Mr Perks opened the door and allowed the Aurors inside.

"That's all of them. We can search their pockets here and there was also a sack on the floor in there so we can make sure all your belongings are here before we go."

Even Sally-Ann had to moderate her glare at the efficient way the team had worked; she thanked the other three members before adding a stiff word of gratitude for Neville; he nodded uncomfortably, understanding why she was still pissed at him despite his efforts today.

"What happens now?" Mrs Perks asked as her husband returned, confirming that everything had been recovered and was again where it was supposed to be.

"Well," Neville replied, "we take these four in and formally charge them."

"No, please don't!" The stunner had worn off the redhead and she spoke up with panic in her voice. "I'm only here because we're poor; we're trying to make ends meet but there's never enough money to get us to the end of the month! I was told it would be an easy job with no risk and that I'd be able to help my family out! Please, look the other way," she begged, almost in tears. The girl then struggled her way to her feet and slipped in front of Neville. "I'm sure we can come to some arrangement, Neville," she batted her eyelashes at him suggestively and edged even closer to him; he smiled as he felt her feminine body press against his.

"Stupefy!" He stunned her again and applied a second pair of magic-inhibiting cuffs. At his nod the two goons were also cuffed, much to their annoyance.

"We can add solicitation and attempting to bribe an Auror to the list of charges against Miss Weasley here," he commented with satisfaction.

"I'm surprised you turned her down," Sally-Ann snarked; Neville turned to her with a smile.

"Had she approached me off-duty, I would likely have taken her up on her _generous_ offer," he admitted with a shrug. " _In_ uniform," he gestured to the robes and badge, "and being offered it as a quid-pro-quo, it would be corruption and my team and I are above that. Good day Miss Perks, sir, madam," he finished loftily. He heaved the unconscious body of Ginny Weasley into the fire (the floo had been re-opened by Mr Perks when the intruders were disarmed) and took her back to the Ministry. His colleagues followed with the other prisoners.

 _Cour des Loges,_

 _6 Rue du Bœuf_

 _Lyon, France_

 _Friday 3_ _rd_ _October 2003_

Harry had returned to the hotel alone; he'd enjoyed an excellent dinner at a local restaurant before finding a nearby bar but while the ladies of the town had appreciated his charm but he'd been unable to persuade any witches to return to his hotel with him or non-magicals to invite him to _their_ place (as he couldn't very well take them to a hidden floor of a hotel). He was a little disappointed but at least it meant he had been able to enjoy a good night's sleep in his sumptuous room before checking out and heading back to the Ministry. Finding the right office he knocked, entered and grinned at the glowing young lady behind the desk, greeting her in perfect French. "Bonjour Aimee," he grinned, "how are you today?"

"'Arry," Aimee Blanc – no, Deveraux he corrected himself – greeted her former lover (they had become friendly during his year in Beauxbatons and begun a relationship when she came to Hogwarts the year after before quickly deciding that it didn't work. They parted amicably but agreed to keep seeing one another now and again for sex – at least until she'd taken up with Neville Longbottom around Easter, causing Harry to turn his attentions elsewhere, 'consoling' Susan Bones who had long pined from afar for Neville), "Jean-Claude told me you would be coming. I trust you are well." She stood and walked around from her desk; from what he could see her figure hadn't changed much since they had been at school together and Harry quickly swallowed down some saliva as he recalled what resided beneath her dress robes. He settled for taking her hand and kissing the back of it, mindful of the ring occupying her finger; she was in no mood for such formalities, though, and threw her arms around him as soon as he released her hand. She then proceeded to kiss both his cheeks.

"Yes, I see you two are still happily married, despite your… relationship at school," he grinned.

"Indeed," she confirmed, smile lighting up the dingy office before she patted her belly gently, "and in six months there will be a new Deveraux in the world." Now aware of it, Harry could see the tiniest of bumps there and congratulated her warmly. "I have the information that you wanted, though we still are not sure _why_ you want to meet the Veela. I know, I know," she raised a hand to forestall his argument, "Jean-Claude explained your father's reasons. Just be careful, 'Arry, they have been apart from the rest of us for a long time for good reason."

"I know the history – including what happened to them in Britain in the past," he assured her. "I will take care."

She kissed him again and he left the office. Harry sat in one of the waiting rooms, studying the maps and other information he had just received. The forest area around ninety miles to the north east seemed a good place for him to begin his search. He folded up the papers and placed them in his backpack; with a quick goodbye to Jean-Claude and Aimee, he left the building.

Harry looked around; seeing that the plaza outside the offices was deserted he pulled out his dad's invisibility cloak and wrapped it around himself before apparating silently to the edge of the Jura Mountains. He pulled the detector he'd received from Hermione from his bag and, seeing a very faint signal, he stepped inside the forest, confident of making contact with the elusive Veela soon.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading. PD  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Hello everyone and thank you for clicking on this latest update to this story; I hope you're all enjoying it.  
**

* * *

 _Chapter 3_

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

 _Friday, 3_ _rd_ _October 2003_

"What's that?" Lily Potter asked her husband as she walked into his office to see him frowning at a piece of parchment he was holding.

"A letter from the French offices in Lyon," he replied. "One of Harry's friends, Jean-Claude, works there now. It seems our son has the information he needed and has begun his search."

Lily made her way around the desk to look at the paper over James's shoulder. She slipped an arm around her husband as she pored over the message.

"He _will_ be alright, won't he?" she asked nervously. He looked at her.

"I'm sure he will. Harry's a capable lad, remember he was top in Defence for the year group and wiped the floor with anyone in France while he was there in those practice drills they ran, and he's got the shielded kit from the Research Department. He'll be fine."

"Will those shields stop a barrage of Veela fireballs?"

"If not then he'll soon learn not to piss them off," the Minister tried to joke but could tell his wife was genuinely scared for their son. "Hey, come on," he hugged the fiery redhead, "I'd never have sent Harry if I didn't _know_ he was going to be fine."

"I know, I know," she conceded, "you would never take risks with our son's life; it's just… mothers worry."

"I do too," James admitted, "but we have to trust him to do the job. I'll tell you what, I'll get Wormtail to go to France to keep an ear open for anything going on."

"Can't you send someone else?" Lily asked. When she saw the look her husband gave her she added, "I know, I know, you were the gang-of-four, at least until I joined you," she noted with a smirk, "but Peter's spending so much time with Malfoy and his cronies…"

"At my behest," the Minister interjected, defending his friend.

"I know but something just seems _off_ ; I'm not sure I trust him, he just seems to gravitate towards the powerful, first you and Sirius, now Malfoy and co… I'm just not sure he's _on our side_."

"I'm sure he is," James began before relenting at his wife's look. "Fine," he conceded, "I'll send Remus instead. He can maybe use his _unique contacts_."

"Send him with plenty of Wolfsbane, maybe he can garner us some sympathy that way, possibly a few allies too."

"Especially when it's known that it was bought by the Minister _personally_ rather than officially," James grumbled. "I know we can afford it," he added when Lily opened her mouth, "but that's not the point."

"Things will change eventually," she encouraged him, "you've already changed so much during your tenure. But centuries of horror stories about werewolves, and the likes of Greyback actively living up to the stereotype, isn't going to be swept away overnight."

"I know, you're right, and if Remus wasn't like a brother to me, would I _want_ to be changing things?" he wondered aloud.

"Think of it like what you're having Harry do with the Veela – bringing them in from the margins of society," his wife suggested.

"It's just going to take a long time for them both," he complained.

 _Jura Vaudois Natural Park_

Harry knew, as he stood on the edge of the forest looking inside it, that it could be a long, arduous journey as well as a rather tedious one. He knew the Veela were sensitive to magic being performed in their vicinity and thus he was having to carry out the search without using magic (such as repeatedly apparating to various random spots within the forest), in case they detected it and hid themselves further. Therefore he began the search on foot; having walked for around an hour into the woodland, Harry stopped for a quick breath and to consult his detector. It was pointing in a North-Easterly direction so he found the next passable path that led in that general direction and followed it. It hadn't taken long for him to become bored with the device's monotonous, quiet humming but fortunately the scenery he was traversing was spectacular and he was able to admire and enjoy it.

It was a warm early autumn day and Harry had soon become thankful for the thick canopy that was blocking out the majority of the sunlight, allowing him to spend his hike in relative comfort, although reaching the occasional clearing or thinner patch of trees overhead soon forcefully reminded him of the rising heat of the day.

It was at one such clearing, another hour or so later, that he stopped for lunch (a hastily wrapped sandwich and some fruit taken from the hotel's breakfast buffet, so as not to deplete the limited supplies he'd packed before leaving England). As he washed his meal down with a swig of water from the canteen he'd also filled this morning he decided to once more consult the maps he'd been given in Lyon. There was little there to suggest he would happen upon them this close to the edge of the forest, but then the maps were years out of date, given the lack of contact between the French and the Veela. Fed up of walking, it occurred to Harry that he might have another option and he delved into his pack, pulling out his broomstick; a quick _engorgio_ restored it to its usual size. He wrapped his dad's invisibility cloak around himself, covering as much of the broom as he could and, after waiting a few moments to see if anybody responded to his use of magic (they didn't), he kicked off from the ground.

 _Department of Magical Law Enforcement,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

"So we have breaking, entering and attempted robbery against Crabbe, Goyle and Baddock and," Madam Bones pored over the Aurors' report again, "the same charges and additional charges of propositioning and bribery against Weasley?" She gave the team leader a searching look.

"That's correct ma'am," Neville confirmed with certainty. "She offered her body to me in exchange for having the charges dropped."

Bones gave him a piercing look for a few seconds before turning back to the paper. "They're all in the cells and demanding lawyers, except for Weasley who hasn't stopped sobbing since your last stunner wore off. If she doesn't ask for a lawyer in the next hour we'll give her a calming draught and then question her; the four will face their trial hearings next week."

 _Jura Vaudois Natural Park_

Despite travelling at nowhere near his broom's top speed (as he needed to pay attention to his surroundings and look closely for any evidence of the area being inhabited) Harry still managed to cover a lot more ground flying than he had walking but there was still no change to the readings on his detector by the time the sun began to sink behind the clouds behind him. With darkness falling he landed again and set up camp, quickly putting up his tent and, after casting a series of protective spells around his position, heading inside to cook something for dinner, lamenting the limited amounts of food that he'd been able to bring with him.

"I never was much good at survival," he chuntered, thinking back on the Outwards Bound weekends his mum had sent him on during his summer holidays; he'd always hated them, particularly the inability to use magic. "A glass of wine would do nicely around now," he added to himself as an afterthought. Instead of being able to enjoy a nice claret, he took advantage of the lack of anything else to do to study the maps a bit more closely; there was still nothing jumping out at him so he eventually called it a night, so as to better get started again with his search at first light.

 _Malfoy Manor,_

 _Swindon, Wiltshire, United Kingdom_

"Ah, Draco, very good," Lucius greeted his son as he arrived at the ancestral family home.

"Father," the younger blond nodded.

"You're probably wondering why I asked you to come over this evening for dinner," Malfoy Sr. began.

"Yes," his son nodded, "it's usually Sunday when mother has me to come around for our weekly family meal."

"Yes well tonight we have a guest for dinner so it's a family affair," his father explained. "Aunt Merope is visiting."

"Merope?" Draco sounded horrified. "The crazy squib?"

"She is not," his father cut off sharply. "She is the last known direct descendent of Slytherin himself and that locket she wears is proof. It is… prudent to align ourselves with her so that, in time of course," he sneered, "it falls into the Malfoys' possession. Our family standing – _your_ standing in the future would be immeasurably increased by such an occurrence and it would undoubtedly help cement the alliances we need to ensure the… unwelcome changes sweeping our world are reversed. You will make her welcome and treat her with the utmost respect," he ordered.

"Yes father," he answered sullenly. As Lucius left, Draco muttered, remembering one of the crazy lady's stories from her youth, "We'd all have been better off if she _had_ just slipped that muggle a love potion and run off with him."

The floo crackled to life and a woman shuffled out before him.

"Aunt Merope, wonderful to see you." Draco had his game face on. "Dobby, attend to our guest's needs," he instructed the family's house elf.

* * *

"There, that wasn't so bad was it?" Lucius asked his son once their guest had gone. Before Draco could respond he pressed on. "How goes the plan?"

"Very well, father. They were arrested trying to rob the Perks hovel up north somewhere."

"Now, now, Draco, the Perks home is far from a hovel, even if it doesn't compare to our own not-so-humble abode," he sneered.

"Well, anyway, the stupid slut went beyond _anything_ we hoped for, actually trying to proposition Longbottom in front of the other Aurors - and the family." He shook his head at what she'd done.

"Excellent," Lucius smiled malevolently. "We know Weasley can't raise two knuts, just more and more red-haired idiots, so it will be a _family_ effort to raise the funds to save her, and that will definitely involve those twins. When the moment is right we'll approach them with the money they need, and they'll give us what _we_ need."

"The other three have requested lawyers."

"I'm sure, I'm sure," Lucius poured himself a scotch, along with a smaller one for his son. "Mulciber will represent them." He sneered again. "Poor, stupid Weaslette, nobody to represent her."

The two Malfoys chuckled darkly.

 _Jura Vaudois Natural Park_

 _Saturday, 4_ _th_ _October 2003_

The sun had barely begun to rise when the forest's fauna awoke; the noise filled the air and roused a very grumpy Harry Potter. He stretched and massaged his sore muscles before running a hand through his unruly hair. For someone raised on the finer things in life, roughing it like this (even in a wizard tent) was not an experience that Harry intended to repeat too often; camping, he decided, was not for him. He stretched before eating a quick breakfast and packing up his camp. Throwing the invisibility cloak around himself and his broom, he took off again.

Around lunchtime he was flying over the tiny settlement of Bois-d'Amont; he decided to land and see if he would be able to get some lunch there. Fortunately he found a small place he could go (a mild _confundus_ charm saw the establishment accept a couple of sickles in payment; he wasn't certain on the exchange rate to muggle euros but thought it would be close enough, based on the times he'd done the same thing in England). During his time at the commune he asked casually about rumours of anybody living in the woods, however nobody was able to give him any information.

The experience did give him an idea, though. Studying his maps again he could see a number of settlements marked on the shores of Lake Geneva and, rather than camping, Harry reasoned that he could easily make his way to one of them (even if it took flying rather fast in twilight) and spend the night in more comfortable surrounds before resuming his search the following day. Consequently he followed the detector for a couple more hours before turning sharply and flying down to Rolle, a lakeside town in muggle Switzerland, where he managed to find a small inn that provided dinner and a bed. Again he asked for rumours or wild tales that might conceal a kernel of truth about the Veela being in the area, again he drew a blank.

Entering his room, he was gratified to see it had a real fireplace. He tried to place a floo call, disappointed but not surprised to find that the fireplace was not connected to the network and he was thus unable to. Instead he focussed on Lyon, thought of his friends Jean-Claude and Aimee and fired off a messenger Patronus.

 _Deveraux home,_

 _Lyon, France_

The young couple had finished eating and were thinking about going to bed when the large silver stag flew through the wall of their house. Aimee yelped in surprise at the apparition and Jean-Claude drew his wand in response as he looked around, only for them to both relax when the animal spoke in their friend's voice.

"Hi you two. I don't know how far I can send this so I'm trying you rather than mum and dad. Can you let them know I'm fine because mum's probably going crazy with worry. No luck yet but I'm still looking and will contact them as soon as I can."

Aimee and Jean-Claude looked at one another and began to laugh. "Only 'Arry," she shook her head; her husband nodded his agreement with that assessment.

 _Godric's Hollow,_

 _Sunday 6_ _th_ _October 2003_

Jean-Claude decided that it was too late to be calling on the Potters (and he wasn't entirely sure whether they would be home on a Saturday night) so he went into the office early on the Sunday morning to use the Ministry's floo (as his and his wife's home floo was not set up for international calls). Lily was delighted to hear from him.

"Hello Jean-Claude," she smiled as he introduced himself. "We've heard so much about you from our son."

" _Most_ of it was good," James added with a chuckle; the Frenchman smiled as the Minister received a slap on the shoulder from his wife.

"I 'eard from 'Arry yesterday," Deveraux disclosed, garnering both Potters' attention. "'E sent a messenger Patronus to our 'ome last night to say 'ee eez well and eez in ze forest but 'as not found ze Veela yet."

"Oh thank you," Lily gushed, "I've been so worried about him so it's great to have some news about how he is." James, however, had a different thought.

"Do you have any more of the maps you gave Harry? Maybe some that we could have?" the Minister asked.

"Certainly," the young Frenchman shrugged, recognising that this would help Anglo-French magical relations continue their upward trajectory.

"Great. Perhaps, if your superiors don't object, you could bring them to Britain?"

"I'm sure zat would be acceptable."

"Is tomorrow too soon?"

Deveraux hesitated. "I will contact my manager and ask."

A few minutes later he contacted the Potters again to confirm he would be at the Ministry at 9 o'clock the following morning.

 _Romantik Hôtel Mont-Blanc Au Lac,_

 _Morges, Switzerland  
_

Finally, after another fruitless day or searching the forest, Harry thought he'd struck gold. There was no residual magic in the air to suggest any wizards or witches lived in the village he'd chosen to spend his evening and night in but one of the locals (a pretty brunette he got talking to in the hotel bar) told him over a couple of drinks of the stories she'd learnt as a girl, stories about a tribe of birdmen who lived in the woods and flung fireballs at intruders. These tales, she had continued, had long been used by parents as horror stories to keep their kids from venturing too far into the forest (though, of course, many spent most of their teenage years searching for evidence of these creatures). She also revealed that a couple of the people she'd known from school had disappeared after venturing into the forest; this happened to a few people in every generation, giving credence to the scare stories of this vicious, murderous band of marauders. Unfortunately, as a result, nobody would know _exactly_ where to look as nobody who experienced the sudden disappearance of a friend or acquaintance had any desire to investigate further and risk running into them.

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

 _Monday, 7_ _th_ _October 2003_

The Minister and his wife were in the office just before 8 a.m. as normal. James, however, had barely made it to his seat when Lily bustled into the office with a young couple in tow. "James," she began, "this is Jean-Claude and Aimee Deveraux, Harry's friends from Lyon."

"Oh," James stood and offered his hand. "I wasn't expecting you for another hour."

"We said 9 o'clock, did we not?" Jean-Claude asked, pulling a confused face.

"Yes but…" James pointed to the clock behind them, "it's only 8 o'clock here. I think we should have specified either French or English time," he added with a chuckle, one that the French couple shared. "Anyway, welcome to the British Ministry of Magic." He then turned to the other newcomer, took Aimee's hand and kissed it; to the young witch it was a reminder of the times Harry had done the same thing so many times over the years they'd known one another.

"Unfortunately," he told them, "I have the interdepartmental meeting now; I'll try and get it over and done with as quickly as possible but it will probably be around an hour."

"No problem," Lily piped up, "I can entertain our guests – or rather _they_ can entertain _me_." She smiled at the French pair. "I want to know _just_ what our son got up to during his year in France, rather than what he _told_ us he did."

"Are you _sure_ you want to know?" her husband shot back with a grin as he gathered his papers for the meeting; the redhead hesitated for a moment, particularly at the looks on their visitors' faces.

"Yes," she said finally.

"Prepare to be 'orrified," Aimee quipped. James kissed his wife, bid the trio goodbye and left for his meeting.

 _Romantik Hôtel Mont-Blanc Au Lac,_

 _Morges_

Harry woke with a sense of renewed optimism; he was pretty sure that he was getting close now. He packed his things quietly, hearing a groan as the brunette awoke. He clambered back onto the bed and gave her a tender kiss.

"Do you _have_ to go?" she asked.

"I'm sorry but yes," he replied, caressing her cheek gently; she groaned again.

"Thank you for the talk and… the rest," he grinned at the memory of the previous night, "but I have to continue my trip."

"Good luck," she smiled; he leaned in and kissed her before getting off the bed and picking up his things. He stopped at the door, turned back and waved at the girl (who by now was out of bed); she waved back and he left the room, wistfully wishing that he could delay his departure a while longer, especially as she was headed to the room's en suite bathroom.

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

"Well? Was ignorance bliss?" James asked Lily as he returned after his meeting to find the three still talking.

"I think it probably way," she admitted. "I can't believe some of the things he did."

"Well, the past is the past," the Minister reasoned.

"We were kids," Jean-Claude defended, "stupid kids."

"I remember what that was like," James added, thinking back on his own school days and the escapades he and his friends got involved in; Lily rolled her eyes at him as she also reminisced on his and the other marauders' antics.

"I 'ave ze maps you wanted," Jean-Claude handed him the rolled-up parchment they'd brought with them. "'Eet shows where ze Veela were last known to be by wizards, but zis was a long time ago. But zis ees where 'Arry began 'ees search," he pointed to the western edge of the forest. "I don't know where 'ee 'as got to but 'ee weel be 'eading east or north-east to try and find zem."

"I'm sure once he does we can update these maps," Lily observed; the others nodded.

"Do you have time for a tour of the Ministry or do you need to get back to France?" James asked their guests. When they confirmed they had time he led them around the building, making sure he called in on people they knew from their school days, such as Neville, who was pleased to have the chance to catch up with them.

 _Jura Vaudois Natural Park_

After another day spent mostly on his broom (and, despite the detector's signal being stronger still no sign of the Veelas) Harry turned back towards the lake, landing in the town of Lausanne. He was delighted to pick up a trace of magic, along with some interesting readings from his detector; clearly the town was large enough to have its own magical community and there was a suggestion from the detector that there could be some, if not Veela, then their descendants.

Harry kept a keen eye out as he walked through the town. He eventually happened upon this town's equivalent of _The Leaky Cauldron_ as he walked; the place seemed invisible to muggles so he walked inside the pub to see what he could find out. He was mildly surprised and disappointed) to see that there were no female clientele in the place; a quick query to the barman explained this.

"There are no witches in Lausanne," he explained.

"How can that be?" a bewildered Harry asked.

"There never have been. This entire community, as far as we can tell, were abandoned on the edge of the town. It still happens to this day, occasionally we will see baby boys left by the side of the road into town."

"That's rather strange," the Briton observed.

"That's not all," another customer joined the conversation, "there is usually one day each year when all of the wizards… lose a day," he finished dramatically; the barman nodded, as did a few other patrons who were within earshot.

"What do you mean you _lose a day_?"

"Exactly that. You see we wake up and it's not the day it should be. It's as if we've all slept for a whole day. But it's _only_ the wizards that this happens to. Our non-magical neighbours have a normal day, but they don't remember seeing us at all."

"You live alongside muggles here?"

"Yes," the barman nodded, "we have a hidden magical area, like this pub, but mostly we live side-by-side, keeping our magic hidden from them but being a part of the town community. It's especially important when these baby boys are left here as we can keep watch on them, looking out for accidental magic and, eventually, teaching them about magic and their place in the magical world."

"As a result it's usually the same people who adopt; it's easier to tell them about magic than to keep having to make them forget what they've seen."

"And _all_ these abandoned kids are boys and they are _all_ wizards?" he asked in disbelief.

"Every last one," the man nodded.

Harry was certainly curious but he had his own mission to deal with; he turned the conversation onto the Veela, only to be disappointed that the drinkers had no knowledge of them. He felt, though, that it hadn't been a totally wasted trip (particularly as everything was pointing to him getting closer and closer to finding them). He asked for and was given a room at the pub and enjoyed the opportunity to spend the night among wizards, listening to some of the stories of life in this magical enclave.

 _Tuesday, 8_ _th_ _October 2003_

Knowing that he was close, Harry set out on foot once he was back in the forest. The detector he carried was giving off ever stronger signals as he walked until, about an hour into his hike, he groaned as the heavens opened. Despite the dense canopy of trees above him, he was soon soaked, although the shield charm on his glasses seemed to double as an _Impervious_ charm as he could still see; he pulled his hood tighter as he pressed on, though he soon realised that he would need a _Lumos_ charm to guide his progress. He cast the spell with a degree of uncertainly, as he was still worried about how the Veela would react if they were in the vicinity and felt magic being used. Not having any other options, as the forest was getting darker by the second, he lit his wand and pressed on.

He'd walked for a further five minutes when a rustling in the undergrowth ahead of him startled him; he stopped walking and suddenly two figures emerged from the dark forest. He shone his lit wand down the path as he was approached by a pair of tall, blonde, beautiful women who appeared, by the light of his charm, to be close to his own age. Both were almost 6 feet tall, a similar height to himself, and carried wooden staffs as tall as they were and lit at the top. Neither, though, were dressed for the weather, clad only in skimpy, rather flimsy medium blue tops (similar, he recognised, to the colour of the Beauxbatons uniform) that wrapped around their upper body, not only leaving their midriffs exposed but barely covering their breasts, and skirts of the same colour that started at their waists and ended halfway down their thighs. In fact Harry suspected that if he dropped to his knees in front of them and looked up, he could get a pretty good view of everything, though he suspected that doing so would be a rather bad idea at the moment; neither seemed to care about the deluge from above as they advanced on him. His elation at having appeared to find the Veela was tempered by the fact that both looked less than pleased at his presence.

"Wizard," one of the Amazons spat; Harry stood straighter and looked her in the eye.

"My name is Harry Potter; I am an Emissary from the British Minister for Magic, James Potter, and I seek an audience with your queen," he stated formally, extinguishing his light spell and lowering his wand in a respectful and non-threatening gesture.

The women glanced at one another before striding up to him; each seized an arm and they frogmarched him roughly to a nearby cave, which came as something of a relief as he was now out of the rain. He suspected he would have walked straight past the cave in this weather and might not even have seen it in sunny conditions. His relief at being out of the rain was short-lived, however, as he saw, to his concern, something resembling a prison in front of him, vertical bars ran from floor to ceiling. Clearly some of them were part of a door as it was wrenched open by one of his captors before he was roughly pushed inside. The door was closed and locked before the blondes left without another word.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading; I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to drop a review if you did (or even if you didn't). PD  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Hello everyone and thank you for clicking on this latest chapter in the story; I hope you're all well. My thanks especially to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter; I really do appreciate your feedback.**

 **I have been asked, by a guest review, when I will be updating my other story (Beauxbatons Years). All I can say is when I have a chapter I'm happy with I publish it. At the moment I'm more focussed on Veela Nation as I think it's a more interesting storyline but I will update the other one once I have something to post.**

* * *

 _Chapter 4_

 _Holding Cells,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

"Miss Weasley," Auror Nymphadora Tonks stood in front of the redhead along with two other Aurors; Ginny wiped her face on the sleeve of her drab robes and looked at the newcomer, the chain between her magic suppressing cuffs jangling as she did. "You are to be questioned on the events leading to your arrest. Come with us."

The youngest Weasley leapt to her feet, delighted to be leaving the cell after spending the weekend there, even if it was only to go to an interview room.

"Your family were contacted but unable to provide you with council; instead one has been appointed for you," she explained as they walked down the corridor towards the room where she was to be interrogated.

Tonks opened the door and Ginny sat next to the young wizard already there.

"Weasley, this is Mr Creevey, your appointed representation."

"I recognise him from school," she confirmed with a nod, "his brother was in my year." Her heart sank a little, knowing her family had been unable to afford to find her representation and she was making do with a pro bono advocate.

Nymphadora took a Dictaquill from her bag and a spread a few sheets of parchment in front of her. "Tuesday, 8th October 2003. Auror Nymphadora Tonks," she almost choked on her name, once again ruing both regulations and the decision her parents took to name her, "leading questioning of Ginevra Weasley, resident of _The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole_ regarding the attempted robbery of the home of the Peaks family. Also present, Dennis Creevey, council for the prisoner, Senior Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt and Auror John Dawlish." The quill zipped over the parchment as Tonks paused to review the case notes Neville and his team had provided. She leaned forward and eyed the distraught young witch in front of her as she began her questioning.

 _Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

"Thoughts, Tonks?" Madam Bones demanded as the Aurors re-entered the department after concluding Weasley's questioning.

"Her answers tally with Longbottom's report," she nodded to Neville, who was sitting beside their boss. "Based on what she told me she was very much a reluctant participant in this."

"That's not the message the other three are giving," Auror Nobby Leach interrupted; he and his team had just joined the others fresh from questioning the others. "They're all singing from the same parchment – not too surprising when Mulciber is representing all three of them – and all of them are blaming Weasley for the whole escapade."

"Weasley also doesn't help herself by having to admit that she attempted to buy off Longbottom after being arrested," Tonks added; Bones frowned.

"Our job – _my_ job, now, is to convict all four of them, which should be easy enough to do. Punishment will be up to the Wizengamot members selected to hear the case."

"As the only woman there I don't like Weasley's chances," Tonks warned portentously; the others nodded – despite Minister Potter's reforms much of wizarding Britain remained stuck in the distant past.

 _Czech Ministry of Magic,_

 _Prague, Czech Republic_

"You _must_ appreciate, Minister," the Slovak Minister for Magic urged, "that when the invasion comes, and it will soon, we will have just two options – surrender or lose our position the way poor Kielesz did."

The room's other occupants stood silently as they digested her words; the Polish ministry had fallen the previous day and the word crossing their borders was of Russian wizards now walked the streets of magical Warsaw, Kraków and several of Poland's other major cities, not only with impunity but upholding the new regime and brutally putting down any attempted resistance from those Polish Aurors refusing to submit to the puppet government, along with ordinary magical Poles who had risen up in defence of their country.

"That's not all," her Hungarian counterpart added, "Romanian and Bulgarian forces are expected to take Transylvania within days. Then they will turn towards us," he trembled slightly at the prospect.

"How long can you hold out?"

"Against their combined forces, especially when they would have Russian support if needed? A few days at most I fear," he admitted.

"What do you propose?" their host asked; the Slovak reluctantly stepped forward.

"All I can suggest is that we shorten our borders and increase our forces. We pool our armies and use them to defend the borders of our three countries." She waved her wand at the map on the table before them and the borders between the three countries disappeared.

"It _does_ give less space to defend and more bodies to do it," the Czech conceded.

"I just hope it would be enough," the Hungarian commented; the Slovak nodded.

The Czech saw no need to say anything else; he was also working hard to keep the smile off his face as the plans were discussed. He would have plenty to tell Karkaroff the next time they met; after all, he _had_ been promised, via a Wizard's Oath, that he could administer the Czech and Slovak regions once they were part of the new Eastern Empire.

 _Holding Area,_

 _Jura Vaudois Natural Park_

Harry was surprised that his captors had not divested him of his wand when they imprisoned him. Once he was alone he drew it and pointed it at the door with a whispered _Alohomora_. He was surprised when the spell struck the metal and, instead of unlocking his cell, seemed to separate and fly up several of the bars, turning them an electric blue colour as the magic he'd used dissipated. Despite his annoyance at the situation, and his less than warm welcome, Harry was impressed with what he was seeing; the metal had absorbed the magic of his spell and, if he was correct (and he was sure he was, having studied magical theory quite extensively both at school and beyond) it was being used to power whatever dwelling he was currently imprisoned in. He made a mental note to tell Hermione about it on his return to Britain, musing that Ministry employees could easily use a little of their magic as they left work on an evening to charge some sort of magical battery and power the building for the following day before recovering overnight. He smiled as he thought of his parents; sometimes they seemed rather stressed (and he admitted to himself that it was often to do with his antics or those of his twin sisters) and that this sort of energy discharge might help them sleep.

The wizard was drawn from his musings by the return of his two captors; they were still wearing their sodden clothing which clung to them like a second skin but this time they were joined by another woman of slightly taller stature and a slim physique, who he would place at maybe a couple of years older than himself. This one, however, wore a crown and a robe (it looked to him to be red velvet, trimmed with ermine) draped over her shoulders, tied in front of her neck and slipping down the sides of her body and her back. He was surprised to see that other than that she was naked, with her body on display, proving she was a natural blonde. She stopped in front of the cell door and regarded him haughtily.

"Are you usually in the habit of imprisoning emissaries, Your Majesty?" Harry asked in perfect French; he kept his tone respectful but his words made clear the irritation he felt at such a breach of the protocols he had become accustomed to.

"You know who I am?" The woman was surprised; Harry forced himself to look at her face as his mind willed his eyes to wander.

"It was a logical deduction," he replied before gesturing to the two bodyguards as he continued. "I requested an audience with the queen, you wear a crown and an imperial robe. That you're nude aside from it also suggests that you hold a position of such importance that everything you are, including your body, is to be revered by your people."

The queen smiled briefly at his explanation before her haughty, regal expression returned. "As for your question," she spoke in a melodious voice, "we have been given many painful lessons by your kind, teaching us that we are unwelcome in your society and should keep ourselves separate."

 _My kind_ , Harry mused. _This division of magical users is what threatens our entire way of life at the moment_.

"My father, the British Minister for Magic, begs to differ," the young emissary countered; her eyebrows rose at the disclosure of his nationality, particularly given the quality of his spoken French. "I was sent here to find your people in order to establish diplomatic ties with you in the hopes of beginning the cultivation of a relationship between our nation and yours."

The queen eyed him thoughtfully for a few moments before nodding curtly to her guards. One of them reluctantly opened the cell door, allowing Harry to walk out. The guards instantly flanked him closely and together they followed the monarch towards a seemingly blank wall at the back of the cave. She placed a hand on the wall and whispered something Harry couldn't pick out before the wall dissolved before his eyes and the four walked into a sumptuous looking palatial building. "Welcome," the queen told him genially, "to _Le Chateau Delacour_ , the seat of power in the Veela nation." She turned to the guards. "Take him to a room; let him settle and freshen up. We will receive him in two hours." Their expressions screamed reluctance but they acquiesced; clearly the women disagreed with her decision but knew better than to argue with their queen.

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

"Barty! Good to see you," James stood and welcomed the man who was one of his staunchest supporters in the Ministry. Crouch had led the DMLE before leaving to take up the position of Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and remained a valuable member of the faction closest to the Minister and his plans. "How are you?"

"Not bad, James, not bad," the man sank wearily into the proffered chair. "Not getting any younger but then none of us are."

"Well not unless Sluggy ever works out how to brew an anti-ageing potion," the Minister quipped. "I trust the family are well?"

"My wife is," he replied gratefully, "though I do fear for her health if our son doesn't improve his ways." He gave James a piercing look. "I _so_ wish he'd chosen to go around with your group and _your_ friend, Black, rather than the younger of the brothers. I fear him becoming everything I've fought against my whole life and I'm powerless to prevent it from happening."

James could sympathise. With Lily's cautions over Pettigrew's loyalty still ringing in his ears he appreciated the predicament his former mentor found himself in. "It wouldn't be quite so bad," he began cautiously, "if you could find out what they were discussing and see if they were plotting anything."

"Alas, he'd never disclose anything willingly," Crouch knew precisely what was being inferred but needed to maintain strict evidence that he was following every rule to the letter, in keeping with his reputation and the public demands of his position; his mind was whirring, though, with the idea of dosing the boy with enough veritaserum to find out what the dark faction were planning. Unless, however, he was willing to use an _obliviate_ on his own son, he would only get one shot at it.

"Have _you_ heard any rumours of plans being afoot?" Crouch asked the Minister.

"Whispers," he admitted. "Certain people are… displeased with the direction I'm trying to take our country in, that much is a given. Thus we fear they find this new Eastern power to be alluring. I have a spy in their ranks but… Lily fears he's been turned so we're unsure on the reliability of anything he tells us."

"Anything you could test him with?" Barty asked suddenly. James looked questioningly so he elaborated. "Give him some misinformation, nothing too horrific but something the dark side would quite like to know. Make sure he knows how serious the need for confidentiality is. If it leaks out," the old man shrugged, "then you have your answer on his trustworthiness."

"It sounds like we have the makings of a plan," James commended; the two shared a conspiratorial smile. "Oh," he looked over his visitor's shoulder to the young French couple who had just returned to the office with Lily, "Barty, allow me to present Jean-Claude and Aimee Deveraux from the Lyon office of the French Ministry. They're friends of my Harry, you know."

Barty turned and greeted them cordially. He shared James's vision of closer links between light-minded ministries in Europe and was delighted to see such partnerships being cultivated to the point that foreign visitors were welcome in the Minister's Office. He felt the foreign audience made this the perfect time to get to the point of his visit. "Speaking of Eastern Europe, it is as we feared, James; Poland and Transylvania have fallen to the new empire; young Harry's mission takes on even more importance now."

"That is… unwelcome news," James agreed. "What's the French view on dealing with these people if and when they become a threat?" he asked Jean-Claude.

"Officially? We do nothing to antagonise zem unless zey invade us. We 'ope zey will be stopped by ze Germans. Unofficially," he shrugged, "we will be offering Germany any 'elp zey need. We do not want zem on our doorstep."

"Jean-Claude," his wife spoke up, "we should return to Lyon. I imagine we will need to go to Paris to discuss ze Empire's latest expansion."

He concurred with Aimee and they stepped through James's floo to return to France.

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location unknown_

After the queen's departure Harry was led by the two guards to a room on the third floor of the castle. A pretty girl was already in the room, like the others he'd encountered she was blonde (in fact Harry thought she bore a passing resemblance to the queen herself, albeit she was shorter than her and appeared to be a couple of years younger than he himself was). The girl was attired in the same uniform as the guards, only dry and without the staves, and Harry held his tongue at the sight of her; here was a girl he could happily (and probably quite easily) seduce but he couldn't risk attempting something like that before making his father's case to the queen. Instead he treated the girl with the utmost politeness and respect as she drew him a bath in the adjoining bathroom, although his resolve was tested when she bent over the tub and her skirt rose up, confirming his suspicions from when he had first encountered the women in the woods. He contented himself with kissing the back of the girl's hand when she was done, causing her to blush furiously as she withdrew, promising to bring his meal and leave it on his desk. Harry found himself revising the previous thought as he watched her go; this serving girl wasn't _pretty_ , she was _beautiful_. _Almost_ as lovely as the queen herself.

Harry removed his still-wet clothes and sank into the hot water; he closed his eyes and allowed the image of the nude Veela monarch to fill his thoughts, hardening as he thought on every inch of her that he had seen.

Harry heard a soft knock on the bathroom door a few minutes later; his eyes snapped open and he called, "Yes?" in a cautious voice as he tried to bring his breathing back under control.

"Emissary," he heard the serving girl's voice, "your food is in this room. When you are done please come to the ground floor and you will be escorted to see our queen."

He called out his thanks to her and quickly finished cleaning himself as best as he could, a little disappointed not to have longer to spend in the bath; he made a mental note to ask the girl to draw him another if she came back later on.

Harry dried himself and wrapped the damp towel around his body as he moved back to his bedroom; he recognised some of the food left for him from his time at Beauxbatons. He did privately lament the absence of a glass of wine, though he appreciated that he would need a clear head for the discussions (but really, would one glass hurt?) and ate quickly before dressing in fresh dress robes; he was unsure about whether he could get the clothes he'd worn during his search laundered here, or even what the effect of trying to wash them would be, given that the outer robes, like the dress robes he was now donning, had had the shield charm cast upon them.

The Minister's son composed himself and cautiously made his way to the staircase, following it to the ground floor where he seemed to enter something of an atrium. Recognising one of the women who had taken him prisoner earlier he made his way over to her and asked her to take him to the queen, as agreed, for their meeting. She looked at him for a long moment before giving a curt nod and requesting that he follow her.

"You don't want me here, do you?" he observed.

"No," she replied simply, "I do not trust wizards; I do not trust you."

"That is exactly what I hope to change," he explained.

"We shall see," she snapped; the rest of the walk was conducted in silence and she led Harry to a pair of large double doors. The woman knocked on them before opening them. "The queen is inside," she explained; Harry entered the room, seeing the monarch sat at the far end of a table, still wearing just her robe as before, but flanked by two women, both blonde (as had been everyone else he'd seen here so far), one dressed in green robes similar in style to the Beauxbatons uniform, the other in identical robes, only pink. Harry's guide closed the door behind him as the queen beckoned him over.

"These are two of my most trusted advisors," she explained before dealing with the introductions, "Avril, who handles many domestic matters in our nation," the pink-clad woman nodded to him, "and Marianne, our defence advisor." The green-robed woman gave him a suspicious look but a small wave of her hand.

"I am Harry Potter, emissary of James Potter, British Minister for Magic," he introduced himself to the two advisors and took the seat offered to him, thanking the queen as he did.

"So, 'Arry, please start by telling us why you are here, why did you find us?" she invited him.

"Well, Your Majesty, as I said to you earlier, my father, Britain's Minister for Magic, seeks closer ties between our nation and yours," he began for the benefit of the newcomers. "We have heard of the conquests in eastern Europe and fear the rise of a new Dark Lord on our doorstep. Our Ministry, and our Minister, feels that only by working together with our friends on the continent can we oppose this new threat – and the more friends we have the better."

"Your people have never treated us well," Marianne interjected. "In fact we were expelled from your country six hundred years ago and have never been allowed to return – except as _mascots_ ," she spat the last word, "mere emblems of a country where we are treated as trophies."

Harry sat up straight and looked the Veela queen in the eye. "Your Majesty, on behalf of the British Minister for Magic I apologise to you and to your nation for the poor treatment your people received from us in the past. My Minister cannot change the past but we hope that in time we can work together for a better future for all of us."

The three women exchanged stunned looks; an official and formal apology from a foreign nation was not something they were used to receiving.

"Emissary, I accept your Minister's apology on my people's behalf," she began cordially. "However, our agreeing to anything else requires more input from my advisors. I suggest discussions be heard by our court, beginning tomorrow."

Harry nodded; he hadn't expected instant success.

"You may stay here as our guest for the duration of our talks. The room you were shown to earlier will be yours for as long as you are here."

"Thank you, Your Majesty; I gratefully accept your generous hospitality."

"We will see you in the morning," she dismissed him with a wave; as Harry left he could hear her conversing in a low voice and rapid French with her advisors. He didn't want to linger and be caught eavesdropping so he took his leave, musing on the occasional word he had managed to hear.

 _Thursday, 9_ _th_ _October 2003_

Harry awoke to a gentle knock on the bedroom door. He pulled the bedclothes around his body before urging the visitor to enter; it was the serving girl he'd encountered the previous day and she carried a tray laden with food and a steaming mug.

"I have your breakfast, Emissary," she declared, "and a cup of tea. I hope it is to your liking; we do not drink much tea but know that the British prefer it," the girl smiled; Harry thanked her for her thoughtfulness. "The queen will meet you in the same room as yesterday in one hour," she gave him a small bow before leaving him to enjoy his meal.

 _Courtroom 10,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

"Bring in the prisoners," the Chief Warlock's voice rang out across the cavernous room, silencing the chattering members of the Wizengamot who had been selected to hear this case.

The floor opened up and four chairs rose into the cages above them; each of the accused was also chained to his or her chair. Three pairs of eyes searched the visitors' gallery and found the smirking form of Lucius Malfoy; he gave the smallest of nods to each of them. The fourth, Ginny Weasley, sat with her head bowed, wondering once again how on earth she had found herself talked into the actions that led her to this point. Up in the public gallery her mother, Molly, gasped at the sight of her daughter; only the consoling arm of her husband Arthur kept her remotely composed. Arthur, meanwhile, looked to the front of the court where his third-oldest son, Percy, sat beside the Chief Warlock (his boss) acting as court scribe. He was a little disappointed not to see the twins, though he knew their work kept them extremely busy. As for his youngest son… he wasn't exactly sure _where_ Ron was at the moment.

"Who acts for the prosecution?" Crouch demanded.

"I do," Madam Bones stood.

"And for the defence?"

"I act for Mr Crabbe, Mr Goyle and Mr Babbock," Mulciber also stood, giving a small bow to the Chief Warlock.

"I am council for Miss Weasley," Dennis Creevey added timidly with a bow of his own; it was his first case before the court, having done most of his work prior to this assignment either as part of a team or in an office somewhere negotiating a deal.

"Chief Warlock," Mulciber spoke up, "per the Multiple Defendant Act of 1722 I request that silencing charms be used on the co-accused while one is being questioned."

Crouch frowned for a moment, especially at the glowers emanating from the Prosecution's table at that request. He'd dearly love to object but had no grounds to do so, especially as all Bones did was snarl rather than protest. "Very well," he conceded. "Aurors, ensure the accused are all silenced before we begin."

"Chief Warlock, I would like to request that the questioning be carried out under _veritaserum_ ," Bones added. Crouch was about to agree when Mulciber leapt to his feet.

"I object most strongly, Chief Warlock. It has _always_ been the policy of our august Wizengamot that the word of a Pureblood is honourable and true. We have, sitting before us," he gestured to the prisoners, "four Purebloods. I see no need for the Wizengamot to call into question its own honesty and trustworthiness," he concluded with a triump0hant smirk as he saw some nods from the room.

His threat won the day; there were sufficient murmurings and complaints from the assembled jury that Crouch was forced to decline Bones' request. Mulciber smirked again as he shot a look at the furious witch.

Bones started by questioning Mr Perks. He confirmed that he'd heard the intruders breach his home's security and had contacted the Ministry. He furthermore identified all four of the accused from when they were dragged into the kitchen; he also confirmed that Ginny had propositioned Neville in an attempt to escape justice (Molly sobbed in the gallery). Mulciber forced him to admit that none of the others had said anything and nothing had _actually_ been stolen, though Bones countered this when questioning Neville, who confirmed that several valuables were in a sack on the floor between Babbock and Weasley, and that both were holding Perks' property when stunned by him and his team. This caused Mulciber to question the role (and thus guilt) of Crabbe and Goyle; Neville argued that both were carrying their wands and that Crabbe, once Goyle was stunned, pointed his at the Aurors, which was in itself a crime. Dennis Creevey, meanwhile, felt totally out of his depth; he knew his client was in a lot of trouble and was hoping that her testimony would paint her simply as a desperate figure who had been manipulated by the others.

Babbock was the first defendant to be questioned. As she was primarily focussed on establishing his guilt, and strongly suspected any elaborations would be falsehoods, Bones merely asked a few simple questions, given that the earlier witnesses had already proved that the youngest member of the party was actually there and caught red-handed. Mulciber then questioned his first client and shattered Creevey's hopes.

"Why were you there?"

"Ginny Weasley recruited me; she said it would be a soft, easy target and a simple way to make a few galleons." The chamber gasped, Arthur was on his feet, shouting furiously (until Crouch restored order and threatened to cast silencing charms on the gallery). Ginny, meanwhile, was screaming constantly, putting the silencing charm to a full test. "She told me not to say anything," Babbock continued as he watched the redhead, "and you can see her threatening me," he made a show of shrinking back in his seat as the girl continued her silent rant.

"So Miss Weasley was the mastermind of your little group?"

"Yes," he lied meekly, "she recruited _all_ of us, saying it was our right as Purebloods to have the best that the Wizarding world had to offer and we should just take it."

"I see," Mulciber sneered, "thank you Mr Babbock."

Dennis floundered, completely blindsided by the allegation. He tried to counter but Babbock was set fair in his claims, claims that were completely backed up by Crabbe and Goyle when they took their turns being questioned. With the three Pureblood male Slytherins singing from the same parchment, Ginny's hoarse protests (she barely had any voice, given how much she'd tried to yell while silenced) during her testimony, which was rather different in apportioning blame (she claimed to have been approached by Babbock and told it was easy money, an attractive thing to someone from a poor family) were met with cynical looks from the jury.

The deliberation was swift and the decisions unaminous.

"All the defendants are guilty on all counts," Walden MacNair spoke for the Wizengamot; blood drained from Molly's face and she fainted in her husband's arms. "Babbock, Crabbe and Goyle, while guilty of the attempted theft, have clearly been manipulated into their actions by a girl able and willing to use her body to get what she wants. We therefore give each a sentence of one week in Azkaban, suspended for one year, and a fine of twenty galleons." Ginny and Arthur swallowed nervously; they knew by now it was going to bad but weren't sure quite _how_ bad. "Weasley, however, has shown no remorse for her actions, merely remorse for getting caught and being unable to bribe her way out of trouble. We therefore sentence her to two months in the low security wing of Azkaban," Arthur gasped again, "effective immediately, and an additional fine of two hundred galleons."

"No, you can't…" she whimpered, horrified at the sentence.

Crouch bowed his head; he knew the Weasleys were a poor family and that this fine was ruinous to them; he suspected MacNair knew that too and this was part of the reason it was so stiff – that and the crimes the girl was being convicted of. "So be it," he declared gravely. "If the fines are unpayable, as per our laws, an additional day in Azkaban per galleon will be enforced. Unlike the initial sentence, these days cannot be suspended or reduced by good behaviour," he finished with a sympathetic but decisive tone, suspecting her three co-defendants would have no problems raising the cash and thus not see the inside of the Wizarding prison.

After a smiling Lucius Malfoy discretely passed some bags over, three men stood in the gallery. "Chief Warlock," one said, "I am Albert Babbock. I have the twenty galleons for my son's fine." The other two revealed themselves as Crabbe and Goyle's fathers, also with the money for the fines.

"Very well," he nodded to them, "clerk, handle the paperwork," he told Percy. "We will keep the three here to be released after it's done." He then gave the distraught redhead a sympathetic look. "Take Miss Weasley to begin her sentence."

A scream of "Nooooo, daddy!" accompanied Ginny's chair sinking back through the floor and shattered her father's heart; Percy blinked away his own tears as the three parents approached him. Minutes later they were reunited with their children and walked free from the courtroom.

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location unknown_

After finishing breakfast, Harry made his way back to the room he'd visited the previous day; the long table was gone, replaced by a number of comfortable, cushioned benches, occupied by dozens of Veela, all robed in a similar way to the advisors he'd encountered at the last minute; a multitude of colours clearly symbolised that many different departments of the queen's court were represented. In the centre, on a fine throne, sat the monarch herself. The only other furniture in the room was a simple wooden chair; Harry sat on it, surprised that it was far more comfortable than he'd expected.

"Cushioning charm," one of the women in the front row smiled at him; he nodded gratefully.

The queen stood and the hubbub of the room subsided immediately. "We are here today," she began, "to hear representations from the British Ministry of Magic. We will hear their case and discuss it between ourselves before deciding how to proceed."

Harry looked nervously at the assembly; he could tell by the looks of them that this was a mostly hostile audience. Gathering his Gryffindor courage he got to his feet.

 _Department of Magical Research,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

"Fred! George!" Percy, having received permission from Crouch, rushed to find his brothers.

"What happened?" Fred asked, seeing the look on his older brother's face.

"Ginny, she…" Percy lost his battle and the usually pompous and stuffy Weasley brother began to cry. The twins exchanged horrified looks before George pulled Percy into an awkward hug while he tried to compose himself. Finally he had enough control to sit down and explain what had occurred to the increasingly irate twins.

"What can we do?" George asked at last.

"We need to get two hundred galleons together or she'll be in there for nearly eight months," Percy explained; Fred looked at his brother.

"We'll do what we can but _two hundred galleons_? I don't know where we'll be able to find that sort of money in a hurry."

"Well we have a month to find it," George added philosophically, "she's stuck there for that long anyway." The reasoning was sound but the reality did little to improve the mood of any of the brothers.

 _Malfoy Manor,_

 _Swindon_

"You asked to see me father?" Draco, having been summoned, flooed to his parents' home and, after a brief word with Dobby, entered Lucius's study to meet with the elder Malfoy.

"Yes, Draco. The Weaslette is in Azkaban; it's time to make our move."

"I understand," the blond nodded. "I'll go to see them tomorrow and make our _generous_ offer." Seeing that his father didn't crack a smile, Draco promised, "I won't let you down."

"Make sure you don't," Lucius replied warningly.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading; please feel free to drop a review letting me know what you liked or didn't like about the story so far. PD**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello everyone and welcome to this latest chapter of the story.**

* * *

Chapter 5

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

"We will not be taken in by your silver tongue and insincere words," a particularly angry-looking Veela shot at Harry.

Harry Potter found himself in a most unusual situation; he was a worried young man. Not only that but he was the only man in a room with over fifty of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen; being surrounded by a sizeable number of attractive women in and of itself wasn't completely strange to him (though the number was larger than he was used to), the problem was that he'd never seen beautiful women looking so angry – and having several of them looking angry at _him_. The session had started well too, in his opinion anyway; he had eloquently made his case for friendship between Britain and the Veela in an initial presentation to the court and was now being questioned by them about what he had said and what he hoped to achieve. The large number of Veela present were wearing robes in a variety of colours; from his previous meeting with the Queen and her advisors he took these to represent the different departments of her administration. Harry was concerned to see that there were numerous murmurs of agreement coming from the benches in front of him in response to the outburst, though thankfully none of them came from the Queen herself.

"That is unnecessary, Marie," the monarch spoke up. "Emissary Potter is our guest and should be treated with respect. By all means ask him questions about what he has said and about what he and his country proposes, but statements like that do not help us."

"Yes, my Queen," the woman bowed deferentially before turning back to Harry. "We have _a lot_ of experience, _centuries_ of it, of mistreatment by you wizards. We are exiled from your countries or forced to live separately, attacked by witches who fear losing their men to us. Or else we are treated like _trophies_ ," she spat, "something to be trotted out to show how wonderful their country is."

"Like Bulgaria at the World Cup," Harry nodded sympathetically.

"Yes, so you wizards can drool over us while we live in slavery."

"Is that true, Your Majesty?" he asked in surprise. "Are Veela enslaved in these countries?"

Marie looked like she wanted to answer but didn't dare, given the question had been addressed to her Queen.

"It is… difficult to explain to an outsider," she admitted, choosing her words with care. "First of all, to us the Veela nation contains _all_ of our people scattered throughout the world. I am the Queen of _all_ of the Veela. Some of us live here or in other places like this, where we are, sometimes by choice and sometimes by force, apart from the rest of the magical societies, in other places we live either mostly in our own communities but _within_ the countries, like the Bulgarians, or some lucky ones, mostly in the Americas, can actually live fully within the magical community. Of course for them there is the question of to whom they owe their ultimate allegiance, their Queen or their country."

"What is the answer?" Harry asked, intrigued; the monarch smiled enigmatically.

"We try to avoid asking that question," she replied, causing a few titters from her courtiers. "As to other countries, where we have Veela within a country, it depends on the nature of the government. In Bulgaria the Veela have very little freedom, we cannot work and the government can control every aspect of our lives; this is getting even worse since they became allied to Russia – this new empire of which you spoke," she nodded to him. Harry suppressed a smile; the Queen seemed to have identified the threat as a common enemy, which he hoped would aid negotiations. "These Veela will certainly be loyal to us over those countries. In countries like Greece the governments are less restrictive but still do not want us to integrate fully into their society."

"Witches putting pressure on their husbands to keep us marginalised," one of the courtiers added sullenly, to general nods of agreement.

"Thank you for the explanation," he gave a small bow. "I will admit that our ignorance of the relationships between the world's Veela enclaves and groups was something we hoped to change as a result of my trip." This received a few nods and even a couple of smiles, encouraging him to continue, though his next question changed that. "Visiting other Veela would certainly help improve my understanding. Do you often visit the other enclaves and countries?" Harry asked; immediately he saw the court become a lot more hostile to it and felt as if the temperature had plummeted several degrees. A look of sorrow swept across the Queen's face.

"The Royal Visits _do_ happen – and they are the reason that I am now Queen," she answered quietly. "My mother was killed on a visit to Bulgaria – killed by wizards who wanted to rape her and she fought back; even when she transformed she could only fight so many at once. Of course it made relations between wizards and ourselves even worse, not only there but across the world. In fact, yours is one of very attempts since then that has been made by a country where we do not live freely."

Harry nodded awkwardly and managed an apology for bringing up such a painful subject.

"You were not to know," she replied generously before becoming silent for a few moments. "I think we should leave things there until after lunch. You may continue to eat alone or join us in the Main Hall for your meals if you prefer to," the monarch added before gesturing to the door he had come through, either missing or ignoring the looks of annoyance that her invitation caused to appear on some of the Veela's faces. Harry bowed before heading through the door as the courtiers left by a door behind their benches.

* * *

"I see you never answered her," one of the women commented as she took a seat at the same table as Harry. The senior members sat with the Queen while the rest were distributed throughout the hall.

"Who?" he asked guardedly.

"When Marie spoke about the past experiences we have had with wizards, about how we are treated in some countries. You made no comment."

"I discussed what has happened in the past between the British and the Veela with the Queen last night," he replied curtly; the woman paled a little at his tone.

"I meant no offence, Emissary," she apologised.

"I took none," he responded in a more conciliatory tone. "As for the rest of the magical world, I can't do anything about their attitudes, merely hope that cooperation can happen and begin to change them in Britain."

"Do you think that is possible?"

"I think it is vital," he replied seriously.

 _Azkaban Prison,_

 _North Sea_

She shuffled across the threshold; the door slammed shut as the guards left her, all alone. Ginny sat in her cell, tears still streaming down her face. While she was relieved that there were no Dementors in her wing, the bleakness of her new home and the situation she was in filled her with despair. _Why had she done it?_ she asked herself, sniffling and wiping her face on the sleeve of her unflattering grey prison robe; it was a question she'd asked over and over since her arrest. The answer was always the same – to pocket an extra few galleons. The rest of the 'gang' had sold her on it being an easy, risk-free job and she'd naïvely gone along with it, no questions asked then when they'd been caught – suddenly they had claimed that it was all _her_ fault and she paid the full price for it. Now she was here while they'd received a slap on the wrists and a token fine that their fathers had paid. The unfairness of the situation would have filled her with a sense of injustice, were she not experiencing a sense of all-consuming bleak hopelessness instead. _Two months_ , and that was _if_ her family could cobble together the money to pay her fine. If not… she shuddered at the thought of just how long she could be stuck here and the tears fell again.

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

Harry and the senior Veela returned to the meeting room after lunch; Harry stood and addressed the Queen before questioning could recommence.

"Your Majesty, I would like to reiterate my words to you and your advisors from last night," he looked directly at her and she gave a small nod; he then turned to Marie, still glaring at him and looking like she wanted to carry on the inquisition before looking back to the Queen. "On behalf of the British Minister for Magic I apologise for past transgressions committed by my country against your people, including but not limited to the forced deportation."

A collective gasp from the court greeted his words and he could see a few faces soften towards him; Marie's was not one of them.

"Words are easy," she complained, "and they are often empty. What would happen if one of us wished to enter your lands?"

"That would be decided by our government," he conceded, "and would be a result of these negotiations and others in the future between our ministry and your court. Were you to enter Britain today, I can guarantee that you would be welcomed by the Minister, though I admit some of our countrymen would be less pleased."

"Rather like some of my own court," the Queen spoke up, looking directly at Marie, who lowered her gaze a little at the back-handed rebuke.

"So what will be decided here?" one of the younger courtiers asked curiously; Harry looked to the Queen and she nodded, indicating that he should answer with his vision.

"My hope, and that of my Minister, is that we lay the foundations for a closer, warmer relationship between the British and the Veela in the future. If that can be agreed then the next step would be talks between the Minister and his advisors and the Queen and hers," he nodded respectfully to the monarch. "If an agreement was reached to normalise relations then a permanent ambassador would be appointed to liaise with this court while at home we looked to make the wider country more receptive to visits, and one day perhaps more than just visits, from Veela."

"Sensible steps with achievable goals in the short-term and a plan for a longer period," the Queen agreed. "There is nothing there that we object to." Harry could see several courtiers visibly disagreed with that statement but none would actually _say_ so in front of their ruler. "Of course," she added, "the details will still need to be worked out, and that will take time, lots of time." She looked around her. "Does anybody have any more questions for the Emissary?"

Harry sighed internally as a fresh round of questioning began.

* * *

An hour or two later the Queen again adjourned talks; she scheduled a private meeting of her senior advisors for the evening to discuss the British proposal in more detail, inviting Harry to stay on and receive their answer once they were ready to give it, possibly the next day depending on the outcome of their internal discussions; if the response was positive then there was also the possibility of conducting further negotiations. An exhausted Harry staggered up to his room to freshen up before dinner; as he collapsed on the bed he found himself wishing the serving girl would appear again to draw him a bath. When she didn't turn up he headed to the en suite bathroom to do it himself.

As Harry reclined in the hot water he closed his eyes and reflected on the day's events. He felt things had gone as well as they could, the Queen seeming to be receptive to his overtures even if some of the court were more sceptical or even hostile, given the interrogation he'd received in the afternoon. Some of the women were surprisingly well informed about life in Britain and the opinions of many of his society's Purebloods. He had been able to assure them that the situation was changing, gradually, and that the current Minister was pushing for a more open and inclusive society but the relentless questioners seemed determined to force him to portray Britain as a society where the bigots still held a huge amount of influence; his argument that things were changing and improving had fallen on many deaf ears in that room.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been in the water but knew it must have been a while as he suddenly opened his eyes and gave a shiver; the water had gone cold so he'd clearly fallen asleep (and he was regretting not casting a warming charm on it before he got in). He got out of the tub and rubbed himself dry with a towel before dressing again, wondering if he'd missed dinner. Walking back into his bedroom he found this wasn't an issue as a tray was sitting on the desk; a warming charm meant the food was at the perfect temperature while a note confirmed that his serving girl had indeed been in the room while he'd been having his bath.

Fed and bathed, Harry had little to do with his evening, as he wasn't involved in the latest talks or able to contact his parents by floo or his Patronus (he made a mental note to ask if such a connection was possible for his room so that he could at least speak to them) so, after digging into his bag for some writing materials, he made notes on what had happened so far on his visit, what he had accomplished, still hoped to and some ideas for what he should do to achieve his goals, before he elected to retire early for the night.

 _Slovakian Ministry of Magic,_

 _Bratislava, Slovakia_

 _Friday, 10_ _th_ _October 2003_

Having returned from his alliance-building meetings, Minister Horváth sat in his office working through the documents that had appeared on his desk during his trip to Prague. He gave a defeated sigh as he read through the intelligence reports; his spies were suggesting that the invasion was imminent and he was aware of two huge problems with his plans – the combined army would never be mobilised in time, and even if it was, how well could it defend the whole country when wizards can apparate into an area at will? He ordered his assistant to track down the head of the army and have him come to his office.

The General arrived five minutes later, looking resplendent in his military robes. He saluted the Minister before accepting the offered seat.

"You've read the reports," the Minister stated without preamble; General Kováč nodded.

"They will probably do the same as they did in Poland, apparition and Portkeys into the city centres, probably a large force to appear just outside this building, intent on taking the country that way."

"How many troops do we have?" Horváth asked nervously.

"Two thousand," Kováč replied without hesitation. "We've also begun conscripting every adult wizard or witch into a militia; our people know it's a fight for their lives and their freedom now. When the invasion comes… we'll be as ready as we can be."

"If we can have our Czech and Hungarian friends getting ready to Portkey in and help us… maybe it will be enough, we can hope to hold out for a day or so while they prepare – if we can employ guerrilla tactics and look to do as much damage to their forces as we can," the Minister shrugged helplessly.

"I can promise you we will fight with everything we have," his military leader insisted. "Between us, the Czechs and the Hungarians… we will not make things easy for this _Empire_ ," he spat the last word.

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

Harry woke later than usual; he supposed that fatigue had caught up with him after his trip and the days of talks he'd been involved in. His worry that he might be late for the latest round of discussions proved unfounded as, just as he finished dressing, a knock on the door revealed that the serving girl he'd seen before had arrived, complete with his breakfast on a tray. In response to his question she confirmed that she'd delivered his meal the previous night, something that he thanked her for.

"There is also a note from the Queen, Emissary," she informed him, before placing the tray on his desk and removing the empty one from the night before. With a short bow she took her leave and closed the door. Harry unfolded the note, raising his eyebrows a little at the message: deliberations were continuing within the court and he should stay as their guest until they concluded and gave him their answer. A nervous but thoughtful Harry sat at the desk eating his meal.

Having finished his breakfast, Harry left the room and made his way to the Main Hall, which he thought was where he was most likely to see someone he recognised. His luck was in as one of the courtiers who had seemed more receptive to his case was still eating; Harry quickly made his way over to her table.

"May I join you?" he asked; she nodded and gestured with her fork to the chair opposite her.

"I cannot stay for long," she began after swallowing the latest morsel of her breakfast, "as I have to attend the discussions today."

"I know, I received a note saying the talks were ongoing. I was hoping, though, that somebody could grant me access to a floo so that I can speak to my father – both as the Minister and as my father; I'm sure my mum wants to hear from me," he smiled at the thought of how frantic Lily must be not having heard any news from him in a while.

"I will speak to the Queen," she promised. "Now, I am sorry but I must eat before the session begins," she pointed to her plate with her fork. Harry nodded, thanked her and left the hall; he didn't see some of the courtiers at another table watch him go before putting their heads together.

 _Department of Magical Law Enforcement,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London_

"Nev!" Michael Corner called; the young Senior Auror looked up at his colleague. "We're going for a few drinkies and then to a club, maybe meet a lady or two," he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "You coming?"

"Sure," he confirmed, "I need to finish up this report then head home and get changed, maybe get something to eat first."

"Don't bother; we're going to grab something in the _Cauldron_ ," Corner replied.

"That works."

"Great, we'll be there around seven. Dress is smart-casual muggle," he added with a grin.

Neville glanced at the clock; it was already six o'clock. "Ok, let me finish this up and I'll see you in an hour."

 _The Leaky Cauldron,_

 _Charing Cross Road, London_

"Nev, glad you could make it," Michael waved as Neville entered the dingy pub.

"Suck-up," Zacharias Smith teased his friend; the Senior Auror joined them and their other team member, Lee Jordan, at the table.

"Have you ordered yet?" he asked; Smith shook his head and Corner glanced over to Tom, the barman; he shuffled over a few moments later to take their meal orders.

"Where were you thinking of going?" Neville asked over dinner.

"Just hit a couple of bars and then once it's kicking-out time move on to a club."

Drinks and dinner consumed, the quartet headed out into non-magical London.

 _Punch Tavern,_

 _99 Fleet Street_

Ronald Weasley was an unhappy wizard. Not only was he sitting in a muggle pub (and thus feeling extremely out of place) he really didn't want to join in with the festivities of his colleagues, having recently learnt what had happened to his little sister. But it was a team-mate's birthday and he didn't want to cry off, knowing the importance of team bonding and how it was key to keeping him _on_ the team (even if it was just the reserves at the moment he still saw it as a short hop to the first team, then a dream move to his beloved Chudley Cannons and ultimately to playing keeper for England). So, for the sake of his ambitions, he was playing along and attending the muggle-born witch's birthday party along with the rest of the team.

Ron had tuned out most of the chatter and banter from his team (and, mindful of the muggle surroundings they weren't even talking about Quidditch – or _anything_ magical – so he didn't see the point in joining in the conversation). He saw the door open and glanced across, scarcely believing his eyes as Corner led Smith and Jordan into the pub; Ron's eyes narrowed as Neville brought up the rear. The alcohol he'd consumed was coursing through his veins and the redhead was on his feet before he even knew what he was doing. He strode over to the newcomers, his team mates looking over to see what he was doing.

"Longbottom!" Ron snarled. "Because of _you_ my sister's in prison." Ignoring the situation, Ron drew his wand and pointed it at Neville; the muggles in the pub began to laugh at the sight of an enraged redhead pointing a little stick at the more muscular Neville, who was flanked by three equally physical-looking friends, something that did nothing to defuse Ron's temper.

Neville quickly cast a wandless _muffliato_ ; the muggles all looked over to the live band, assuming that they'd done something to knock out the speakers and cause the static buzzing they could hear; the musicians were too far away to have been affected by the spell and carried on playing, oblivious to the burgeoning conflict. Neville's team, meanwhile, began a surreptitious light show of wandless magic to try and distract any attention from the confrontation; the other members of Ron's team, meanwhile, had come over to try and calm the situation. They at least had the sense to show that they were empty-handed when the off-duty Aurors identified themselves.

"Ron," Neville tried to calm down his enraged former school-mate, "Ginny's in prison because of what _she_ did. Did she get screwed by the lawyers and the system in court? I'd have to say yes. That wasn't my fault though." All this did was cause Ron to take a step towards his quarry. "Ron," he tried again, "think about this. You're in muggle London and you've pulled a wand on a Senior Auror," he gestured to his friends, "who has three _other_ Aurors with him. The first spell that leaves your wand and you'll wake up in the cell next to your sister." Mentioning Ginny's fate again was probably the wrong thing to say; the tip of Ron's wand began to glow as his ire grew; Neville tried once more. "I know you're angry, so I'm giving you one chance _to walk away_."

Ron let out a yell and cast a _stupefy_ at Neville; fortunately for the Senior Auror Lee had his wand in his hand (in case of trouble when the Quidditch team came over) and he threw up an instant shield charm between them. Ron's spell bounced squarely off the shield and struck the shocked redhead in the forehead; he collapsed in a heap.

"Ok, show's over," Neville commanded as he dropped the _muffliato_ , wandlessly locked the pub doors and called his team to him. "Start the obliviations of the… spectators while the magical reversal teams get mobilised." He turned to the shocked Quidditch team. "Sorry for disrupting your night; I'm afraid Ron won't be joining you for the rest of it, or for your next few games most likely."

"I suspect he won't be on the team tomorrow," the shaken birthday girl, who was also team captain, replied. "We have a strict Personal Conduct code written into our contracts and casting spells at Aurors in non-magical pubs rather shatters them."

Neville gave her a smile of understanding before looking at the prone, stunned form of Ron Weasley, currently being handcuffed by Jordan. "I _really_ didn't want to have to deal with the paperwork from this; it will take all weekend," he complained to himself; the girl heard.

"Can it be put off until tomorrow?" she asked. "It would be a shame to write off your _whole_ evening. Why don't you guys come along with us?"

The Senior Auror smiled at her as a series of pops signalled the arrival of Ministry employees outside the pub. The door was magically unlocked and a group, dressed as muggles, strode inside; Neville moved to intercept them.

"Senior Auror Neville Longbottom," he identified himself.

"Auror Andy Johnson," the lead newcomer replied. "What happened and who saw it?"

Neville quickly relayed the situation; once the new arrivals took over, his team and the Quidditch players left the pub while Johnson's group dealt with the memories of the muggle witnesses and dragged away the still-unconscious Ron, who was to spend an uncomfortable night in the Ministry's cells.

"I'm sorry we spoiled your evening, and your birthday party," Neville told the birthday girl, who identified herself as Jennifer.

"I'm sorry our soon-to-be-former team mate spoiled _your_ night," she replied sombrely before flashing a smile at him, "but if you _want_ to then you can start to make it up to me by buying me a drink in the next pub."

"Only a _start_?" Neville raised his eyebrows.

"Well I'm _sure_ we can make it up to one another a lot more as the night goes on," she elaborated huskily, pressing herself against him.

"I like the idea of that," his eyes were shining with anticipation; it would certainly mean he could enjoy tonight before he had to deal with the aftermath of the incident tomorrow.

* * *

 **AN: I'm not planning on sending _all_ the Weasleys to Azkaban; it's just the way the story is going at the moment. Reviews always welcome. PD**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Hello everyone and thank you for clicking on this chapter. Special thanks to everyone who read and, particularly, reviewed chapter 5. I am grateful for the feedback and pleased that so many of you are enjoying the story.**

* * *

Chapter 6

 _30 Grove Road,_

 _Ilkley, West Yorkshire, United Kingdom  
_

 _Saturday, 11th October 2003_

Neville awoke to the pleasant and not unfamiliar feeling of a young lady nuzzling into his neck and her hair tickling his bare torso. "What time is it?" he asked groggily, tensing his left arm gently; Jennifer had slept on it and he tried to get the blood flowing again.

Jennifer stopped kissing his neck long enough to answer. "Around eight. No need to ask if you slept well," she added coyly before returning her lips to his neck; Neville chuckled and draped his right arm over her, pulling her into a hug and hoisting her on top of him, capturing her lips with his own as he continued to flex his now-tingly left arm as the feeling slowly returned to his fingers along with the bloodflow.

"Good morning," he smiled, far more awake; she chuckled before giving a sigh.

"Do you have to go into work today after…" she shrugged awkwardly.

"Hey, it's not your fault," he consoled her before grinning. "And besides, if he _hadn't_ then we might not be here now."

"That's true," Jennifer nodded reasonably.

"But I probably _do_ have to go in later on today."

"Later?" she echoed hopefully.

"Later," he confirmed before kissing her again. "Much," he kissed her, "much," kissed her again, "later."

Jennifer smiled at him; feeling him hardening by her leg she lifted herself up enough to guide him back inside her.

* * *

Jen reached onto her bedside table and picked up her wand; a couple of lazy swipes later a tray was hurtling through the air. She plucked it effortlessly out of the air and laid it on top of her legs. Neville wriggled his way into a sitting position before taking the tray and allowing her to do the same. Another wave of the wand lifted the refrigeration charm on the milk jug and orange juice ( _I_ never _liked pumpkin juice_ , she complained, _and it always annoyed me that Hogwarts never provided anything else_ ).

"Juts cereal for now," she commented when their bowls were empty, "I can't boil a kettle to make tea from here; I still need line-of-sight for some things. I'll do some bacon as well while I make tea," she added, pushing the much lighter tray over to Neville and swinging her legs out of bed.

"I'll do that," he offered, setting the tray down where she'd recently been lying and getting out of bed too before picking it up again. She turned to him with an eyebrow raised questioningly. He grinned. "My mum made sure I was well acquainted with cooking as soon as I joined the Auror department; she knew I'd need to keep up a hefty food intake with what the job involves and didn't think she and dad would have time since Crouch's last election campaign was just starting and they were so heavily involved with the team."

She nodded; she vaguely knew him from Hogwarts (mostly by his and Harry's reputations as she was a couple years older than them) and thus was aware of who his parents were and their association with past and present Ministers.

"Well," he declared with a touch of sadness once they'd eaten, "I should get ready to go in I suppose, before Bony finds out about it and _orders_ me in. Could I take a shower before I go?"

A gleam appeared in the girl's eye. "That sounds like a great idea," she told him; seizing his hand she led him to the bathroom.

 _Department of Magical Law Enforcement,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

"Longbottom!" Amelia Bones strode into the office to confront her grinning Auror, who was sat at his desk. "You seem rather too happy given how much trouble you were involved in yesterday," she observed suspiciously.

"Good morning Madame Bones. I'm just finishing up my report," Neville looked up briefly before returning his attention to his desk; he finished working with his quill and set it aside.

Bones snatched the completed sheets of parchment from Neville's desk while she waited on the latest one to dry; she scanned them with a slight frown before nodding and setting them down again.

"Well that looks in order," she was forced to admit, casting a quick glance at the last sheet as well. "I spoke to the rest of your team and they corroborate your version of events, as do the Quidditch team players I spoke to." She gave a quick chuckle. "For team mates there doesn't seem to have been much loyalty to Mr Weasley from them. I still need a statement from the girl whose party it was though, although Jordan sniggered when I mentioned that and suggested that it would be a waste of my time as she wouldn't contradict your version of events." She gave the Senior Auror an accusatory look.

"Um… I doubt that her version will differ from that of the rest of her team – or mine," he agreed evenly. "As for Ron: as I _tried_ to explain to him," Neville argued, "pulling your wand on an Auror in a muggle area isn't a good idea."

"Hmph, well, I need to interview him. You can't be involved in this."

"I have _never_ wanted to be around Ron," Neville countered vehemently, thinking back on their time at Hogwarts and on last night's encounter.

Bones nodded her understanding and left the room, heading for the cells to interview the prisoner.

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

A knock on the door drew Harry from his musings and his mounting tedium; he hopped off the bed and opened the door to reveal the courtier he'd spoken to at breakfast.

"Emissary, I have spoken to our Queen and, afterwards, to our maintenance people. You may use the floo in the Enclaves Office – it is the one we use to share information with Veela across the world – to speak to your parents. It cannot be used by you for anyone to enter or leave our realm."

"I understand. Thank you, and please thank the Queen for me," he gave her a small bow; she returned it and left the room. Harry followed her out and heeded her directions to make his way to the appropriate office, eagerly anticipating the chance to speak to his mum and dad.

 _16 Peverell Road,_

 _Godric's Hollow, United Kingdom  
_

Lily raised her glass to her lips, taking a small sip of red wine before setting it down again absently. She picked distractedly at her lunch, much to the concern of her husband.

"I'm sure he's fine," James tried to assure his wife.

"If I could just _talk_ to him so I'd _know_ ," she answered. "You know how mothers worry."

James nodded and smiled fondly, remembering how much his own parents (especially his mother) had worries about him while he'd been at Hogwarts. That they'd been rather elderly (even by wizarding standards) when he'd come along had led to him being rather spoilt by them, something he and Lily had tried to avoid with Harry, though his inheriting of his and (especially) Lily's intelligence along with a bucketful of charisma had led to him getting his way far more than the Potters would have liked when they evaluated their decisions in the cold light of day. In a way their twin daughters had suffered as a result, as they had become wise to many of the tricks, leaving the mischievous duo to have to find some others.

The Potter parents started in unison as their fireplace burst into life. The call of "Mum? Dad?" was the most wonderful thing Lily thought she'd ever heard.

"Harry!" she cried, racing from the table and falling to her knees in front of the hearth; her husnamd was beside her in an instant as their only son's head appeared in the fire.

"Hi mum, hi dad," he smiled at them. "How are you?"

"Oh darling, it's so good to see you," Lily was struggling to keep the tears from her eyes.

"We're fine, Harry, how about you?" James was a little more together than his wife. "We heard from your friends in France that you'd made contact with the Veela but that's all we know."

"Oh good, my Patronus made it to them," Harry smiled. "I wasn't sure how much range it had – and to be honest I'm not sure _exactly_ where I am," he admitted.

"Really?"

"I _was_ in Switzerland, close to Lake Geneva when I found them – well, _they_ found _me_ really and took me to their castle. I've been here ever since." His tone turned formal. "Minister, I've presented our case to the Queen of the Veela Nation and am awaiting the result of her court's deliberations and their reply."

"If the Queen does agree to the beginning of friendlier terms with Britain, please advise her that I would like to meet with her in person, either in Britain or in her realm."

"I will," he nodded.

"Are you _sure_ you're well? Are you eating enough and taking care of yourself?" Lily asked anxiously.

"Mum, I'm fine," he smiled reassuringly. "They've treated me with the utmost respect – well, _most_ of them, a few don't want anything to do with us or any deal – and I've got my own room, can take my meals with them or alone, someone's been bringing me them quite often actually. You don't need to worry, mum."

"That's what mothers do," she pointed out; he chuckled.

"Harry, I need you to fill me in on everything that's happened during your stay there. I need to pass the word on to our allies in the Wizengamot and start laying the ground work for the deal once they say yes."

Harry made himself as comfortable as he could and spoke in detail about the negotiations; he didn't think his dad (and especially his mum) needed to hear about the lovely serving girl he had his eye on.

 _Malfoy Manor,_

 _Swindon_

 _Sunday, 12_ _th_ _October 2003_.

"The time is now, Draco," Lucius informed his son. "The Weasleys have suffered another… unfortunate incident with young Ronald being arrested for attacking an Auror."

Draco choked on his drink; he knew Ron quite well from school, mostly by reputation, and while his reputation wasn't exactly that of a towering intellectual, Draco didn't think the redhead could be _that_ much of a moron.

"So there will be two Weasels in Azkaban?" he asked hopefully.

"Perhaps, perhaps. He will surely be facing some sort of fine and punishment for his misdeeds. On top of the fine levied on his sister… well the family will surely be… receptive to a means for making a little extra gold."

"I'll go to the Ministry tomorrow and speak to them. You'll have something to show Karkaroff in a couple of days."

"Make sure I do."

 _Department of Magical Research,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London_

 _Monday, 13_ _th_ _October 2003_.

Draco strutted into the department head's office as if he owned it; he treated Hermione as if she wasn't there and instead addressed Luna. "Hello Loony, I'm looking for the Weasel twins. Where do I find them?"

"Just ignore him, Luna," Hermione offered; a frown briefly flickered across the blond's face but he didn't respond to her jibe, instead continuing to stare at Luna as if the first-generation witch hadn't spoken.

"Oh I intend to, Hermione," the blonde smiled at her boss, "particularly as I've no idea who he's talking to."

After this she lapsed into silence, returning to her work and completely ignoring their visitor. Malfoy sighed after a few moments of this. "Miss Lovegood," he tried again with forced politeness; this time Luna looked questioningly at him, "where do I find the Weasley twins?"

Luna's mouth twitched; here was a chance to bring the Pureblood ponce down a peg or three. "Well you'd _really_ need to ask their Head of Department, Miss Granger here," she nodded to her manager, "she's the one who assigns roles to the team and keeps track of where everybody is from day to day."

"I will _not_ sully myself by speaking to some mudblood whore," the bigoted blond snarled; unfortunately for him the Minister happened to be walking by at the time and entered the office wearing a murderous look at the smug Pureblood's bile.

"Do you feel that way about _all_ muggleborns?" Luna asked serenely, throwing a quick glance at James; he held his tongue as he saw what she was doing and was happy to let Draco dig himself an even deeper hole.

"Of course I do," Malfoy confirmed in a venom-laden voice.

"Even the Minister's wife?" she asked curiously.

"She's the worst of them all," Malfoy continued angrily. "The thought of how far our society has fallen that our _Minister_ can be married one of _them_ , that that doesn't automatically disqualify him from the job. If I thought for one second that she was worthy of my presence I'd…"

"You'd do WHAT?" James roared, causing Malfoy to start; he spun round in horror, quailing under the glare the Minister was giving him; that James's wand was pointing at him added to his anxiety at his position.

"Minister. I… I…"

James somehow kept his temper enough to restrict himself to a " _Stupefy!_ " (which, mysteriously, neither of the girls saw him cast whenever they were asked about the incident). He then used the floo to summon a couple of the Aurors and having the stunned blond bodily thrown out of the Ministry before re-enervating him; returning to his office he gave the order banning Draco from re-entering the building.

Draco groaned as he came to in muggle London; he was hoping that his being here meant that none of his father's spies would see what had happened. He wasn't to know that several of them had witnessed his unconscious form being dragged through the Ministry.

 _Czech Ministry of Magic,_

 _Prague, Czech Republic_

"Emperor Karkaroff," Minister Svoboda stood as the Russian Emperor strode into his office. "What can I do for you?"

"You can start by telling me everything you know about the plans your _friends_ are making," he smiled mirthlessly.

"Of course," and he began a monologue about the plans for joint armies to defend the entire lands of the three countries. "The question is," he concluded, "how do we combat these combined armies?"

"They can't be everywhere, Svoboda," Karkaroff reasoned. "We will simply move from town to town putting them under our will and take the countries a piece at a time."

"You _could_ ," the Czech agreed. "Of course there could be a way to take over far more quickly."

"Tell me more," the Russian was intrigued.

"Cut off the head and the body will wither and die."

"That has always been one of my favourite sayings," Karkaroff observed. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

"When we agreed to the alliance between our three countries we granted unrestricted access from one Minister's Office to the others – in case a quick escape was needed. With the dire, _dire_ threat from the Empire," he smiled at the Emperor, "it was based on trust alone. You could easily send one person to each office and assassinate the two of them as the attacks begin. The loss of their leaders would crush their morale and end resistance before it even begins."

"There is a lot of sense to what you say," Karkaroff agreed. "I will send two of my best people on the day we make our move."

"Not so fast," the Czech countered. "I want something in return."

"Really?" The Russian's eyes flashed dangerously. "And what do you expect to get from us? Isn't the combined lands of your own _and_ Slovakia to oversee generous enough? Don't think you're _too_ invaluable, Svoboda, _especially_ now I know I can use your office to visit your _friends_ any time."

"Not if I lock it down with a password only I know, Karkaroff," the Czech Minister countered venomously; his security wizard's wand was in his hand ready for if the Emperor wanted to try and make good on his threat. "It would be useless to you after that. But as for what I want… I'm sure it is no hardship. It is also no territory." The Russian was certainly more placid now. "No, what I want is a little more _status_ , shall we say, for my country and myself." Karkaroff still looked confused so he spelt it out. "I want half of the Veela enclave from Bulgaria brought here in chains. Their leader shall be my concubine, the rest will fill the needs of my government and my friends and also be trotted out whenever I want to show how wonderful life is for Czechs inside the Empire."

Karkaroff smiled as he mulled this over. "Oblansk would not be happy, but I can live with that; his dealings in Britain have displeased me greatly with the lack of influential figures he has recruited. Perhaps losing some of his prize assets will help our friend to focus." He met the Minister's eyes. "When Slovakia and Hungary are mine, you have my word that the Veela will be yours."

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United KIngdom_

"Is this a bad time?" Remus Lupin ducked around the door; James was sitting in his chair and still almost shaking with rage from his earlier dealings with Draco. Lily stood behind 'Moony'; she wasn't sure what had gone on as James had refused to tell her (exhorting her not to ask and just saying that she _really_ didn't want to know – something the witch was never going to willingly accept).

"Remus? No, come in, please." Lily followed him in and both sat facing the Minister. "Right, well you know how we sent Harry to try and find the Veela?" Remus nodded. "Well, we were originally hoping that somebody could go to France _unofficially_ and just keep an ear to the ground, see if they can find out any news or rumours about his mission, that sort of thing."

"And you thought of _me_?" He almost scoffed. "Come, Prongs, you _know_ I don't take charity and that Wormtail is infinitely more suited to that job than I am."

"Lily doesn't trust him," James replied simply; the werewolf turned to the Minister's wife.

"It's true, Remus," she picked up softly, "I worry that with the amount of time he's been hanging around with Malfoy and the others that he's been turned by them."

"I'm sure we can trust him…" Moony began, intent on defending their old friend; James cut him off.

"Moony, we heard from Harry over the weekend; he's fine so that part of the mission is no longer needed but the bottom line is that right now we can't and we don't trust Peter for any important jobs, we _do_ trust _you_. You can make contact with France's werewolves; being considered as dark creatures by many people," Remus frowned; he knew James never considered him anything of the sort but it was still painful being so described, "they might know more about what's going on in Eastern Europe. If you take plenty of Wolfsbane with you," The man's eyes lit up as he appreciated where this was going, "you can see if you can find anything out from and let them know there's more of the potion available for any of them who want it."

"That would be fantastic for them. What do the French Ministry think about you making such an offer to werewolves though?"

"That's a good point, James, they might feel we're treading on their toes doing this sort of thing," Lily agreed.

"I'll speak to their Minister," he promised. "I get the impression, though, that she'd happily deport all of them given half a chance so she's unlikely to complain about someone else footing the bill to make them safe, particularly if it _did_ encourage them to leave France."

"How soon do you want me to leave?"

"As soon as we can get you the Wolfsbane. I get the feeling that it's only a matter of time before this Empire becomes a real threat to us and the more we know about them and their plans the better."

"I won't let you down, James," Remus promised; he left his old friends' office with a spring in his step, on his way out he almost collided with Minister Potter's next visitor.

An altogether less ebullient Lucius Malfoy appeared in the office moments after Moony left. After briefly (and grudgingly) acknowledging Lily's presence he got down to business. "I understand you've declared my son _persona non grata_ ," he observed.

"That's correct," James replied.

"Might I ask why?"

"Did he not tell you?" The Minister feigned surprise. "I'm not too surprised. He referred to one of my Heads of Department as a whore and suggested he'd rape my wife only she was unworthy of him doing that." Lily gasped as she heard this; she now understood why her husband had been so unwilling to tell her what had been said. "So I'm sure you can _understand_ , Mr Malfoy, that he and his opinions are wholly unwelcome in the Ministry."

"I see," Lucius struggled to keep his composure; he knew Draco was an idiot but didn't think he was _that_ much of an idiot; making threats against the Minister's wife could easily see his son moving in next door to the Weaslette. "If I was to… donate to St Mungo's, could we uh… ensure that this goes no further?"

"My Ministry is not for sale, Malfoy," James fired threateningly.

"Of course, of course," the blond backtracked, "I just hoped that we could _avoid_ the unpleasantness of the comments being relayed to a wider audience – comments that would certainly, unfortunately, embarrass your good wife as well as your department head."

James maintained his poker face; he wasn't sure that he could charge the ferret with anything serious anyway, as he hadn't _actually_ threatened anything specific, though his tone had left the listeners in no doubt at all as to his opinions and intentions.

"Very well," he sighed, "I'm sure a significant donation will see things go no further. _But_ your son will not be allowed to enter the Ministry building for a period of six months."

"Isn't that excessive?"

"Would he prefer to spend the six months in Azkaban?" James bluffed.

"I'm sure your terms are acceptable," Malfoy responded hastily. A very reluctant handshake (on both men's part) followed and Lucius departed, feeling he'd got the better end of the deal. He was also certain that his son would pay for his foolishness.

* * *

"Hello James," Barty Crouch had lingered outside the office and now accompanied the Minister to the meeting of the Wizengamot.

"Barty, how are things going?"

"Ah, the case of the Weasley girl was unpleasant business, very unpleasant."

"Yes, my Harry was at school with her, a year older, like her youngest brother; he's _also_ found himself in trouble by the way."

"Really?" Crouch was unaware of the weekend's developments.

"Yes, he pulled a wand on an Auror in a muggle pub if you'll believe it." Barty shook his head at the young man's foolishness. "Yes and not just _any_ Auror, it was Neville – you know, Frank's lad." Crouch nodded now; he, of course, knew James's deputy well. "Anyway Neville was out having a few drinks with his team when it happened."

"So he pulls his wand on an Auror, actually a _Senior_ Auror, who's having a night out with some _other_ Aurors. Dear oh dear, I think there will be another one in Azkaban by the time this week's out."

Yes, thankfully Harry was never close to the family as I think stupidity must be contagious around there," James frowned, "though my son _did_ recommend their twin brothers for Granger's department when she and Lovegood opened it."

"I've heard of them; my assistant, another of the clan, tells me they're very inventive."

"I don't think you were waiting on me to discuss the Weasleys though, Barty," James commented as the lift door closed; they would have a few seconds of solitude as they travelled towards the meeting room.

"Quite, though it _does_ concern them in a roundabout way. You'll know, of course, that Amelia was blocked from using _veritaserum_ during the trial." The Minister nodded. "Well I think we can use the case to force a little reform through the chamber," he smiled.

"Reform?"

"Well _somebody_ was lying. Amelia and I both feel Weasley was telling the truth and that it was the other three who were…" he floundered a little, wondering how to put it diplomatically.

"Not," James grinned at his old mentor.

"Quite," the older man nodded. "Mulciber made sure they all told the same story, Pureblood males listened to Pureblood males and agreed with them. But, as I was saying, we can use this case to show that we can no longer _just_ rely on the word of a Pureblood."

"I see," James smiled. "This will cause quite a stink if you introduce it, Barty."

"Yes, it's unfortunate for Miss Weasley that she had to go down for this crime but we can use it to win the war. Alas, there will always be casualties in a war but Weasley's battle will not have been in vain if I have my way."

James frowned as the lift door opened; one thing his mentor had not passed on was a rather blasé attitude to people's lives. Barty may feel a little collateral damage was acceptable; he would beg to differ (although he could recognise that in this case the cloud was already in place; it was the silver lining being sought).

* * *

The two men strode into the courtroom and a hush immediately descended. James took the Minister's chair and Barty opened proceedings.

"My fellow wizards and witches of this august body, I come before you today proposing a necessary and long overdue change to our laws. I know several of you were in attendance for the recent trial of Weasley, Crabbe, Goyle and Babbock." Nods and murmurs greeted this pronouncement; indeed, the jury sat together and a handful of other members had been in the public gallery that day. "This case presented something of a problem to us all when Mulciber, acting for the defence, refused to sanction the use of _veritaserum_."

"But Barty," a member called out, "it has _always_ been the case that a Pureblood's word has been presumed to be truth."

"Yes, that law was put in place more than five hundred years ago and a Pureblood's word has been accepted ever since but… see what we had here," Crouch argued, "Purebloods with separate counsel and contradictory evidence. Clearly a Pureblood's word can no longer go unchallenged – indeed the ruling our jurors made _stated_ that they did not believe the word of a Pureblood."

The chamber gasped as the realisation hit home to them. Of course the situation had arisen in the past, but those cases tended to be ignored and never spoken of again; the system worked very well for them so long as nobody looked too closely at things after all.

"Yes," Crouch spoke on into the silence, "the court decided that a Pureblood's word is not to be blindly trusted, therefore I propose that we _must_ end this convention and permit the use of _veritaserum_ in criminal trials."

"Of course the liar was the Weasley girl," Walden McNair was the next to speak, "so what appears to have been decided is that the word of a Pureblood _witch_ can no longer be accepted. I see no reason to doubt a wizard's word based on this."

Crouch took a step towards him, allowing himself to be fuelled by righteous anger. "You are aware, member McNair, that my wife is a Pureblood." McNair confirmed the knowledge. "So are you saying that _my wife_ is a liar?"

"No, not at all," he backtracked instantly under the Chief Warlock's glare, "I was merely looking at the facts of this case."

"Yet your argument is that if my wife contradicted a wizard's testimony then you would assume _she_ was a liar," Barty refused to let this drop.

"Of course she wouldn't," he mumbled.

"And _veritaserum_ would prove that," Crouch declared triumphantly, "and then what? Your _wizard_ would be proven to be telling untruths."

"Well in that case, maybe… we could…" McNair floundered.

"And so, members of the Wizengamot," Crouch turned away from him, "I propose we permit the prosecution to _insist_ on the use of _veritaserum_ by _all_ accused in _all_ criminal trials." He took his seat with a satisfied smile as people tried desperately to think of a credible counter-argument. When none was forthcoming, the motion was grudgingly passed by the body, though they _did_ force an amendment saying that _only_ questions directly related to the current case could be asked under the influence of the truth serum.

* * *

"Success!" Barty declared as they returned to James's office where Lily was waiting on them.

"What happened?" the witch asked.

"Barty here trapped the chamber into forcing everyone to take truth serum in trials."

" _Only_ if the prosecutor demands it," Crouch clarified.

"Do you _seriously_ think there will be a case where they _don't_?" she asked.

Lily shook her head; she was sure earlier interrogations would now take place under the serum and that anyone innocent would be released at that point.

 _The Leaky Cauldron,_

 _Charing Cross Road_

Draco was frustrated. Word of his ban from the Ministry, and the reasons for it, was sure to reach his father before long. He could almost hear Lucius's voice in his head and was in no hurry to _actually_ hear it, not without some good news to placate him with anyway. His eyes lit up as the very people he had been searching for shuffled into the pub; neither looked to be particularly happy (which was unusual for them). He took their misery as a good sign and, with a renewed spring in his step, Draco strode over to them.

"Hello Weasleys," without being invited he took a seat at the same table as them. "Why the long faces?"

"Your spy network must be losing its touch, Malfoy," Fred replied waspishly, "otherwise you'd _know_ what was going on."

"Oh the unfortunate business with your sister?" Seeing the pain cross their faces he pushed on, "Yes I was _most_ sorry to hear about that, what with the others getting away with a light fine. _Such_ a shame I didn't know earlier as I'd have been able to put a good word in with the judges." He pretended to ignore their sceptical looks. "After all, with these things it's _all_ about who you know and," he gave a wicked smile, "knowing whose palms can be greased."

"What do you want, Malfoy?" George sighed.

"Straight to business, I like that," the blond nodded. "I can get your sister out, within a couple of _days_ probably."

"Why would you do that?" Fred was looking for the catch.

"Ah, because _you_ have something that _I_ want. In exchange for Ginny's freedom, all I ask is details of what you've been working on, how it works and a couple of samples." He sat back and folded his arms, smiling at the shocked twins. "Do we have a deal, gentlemen? Or are you going to leave poor little Ginny to rot in that hell hole when you have the means to do something about it?"

Malfoy continued to smile as he let his words sink in. "I'll leave you gentlemen to think over my generous offer," he said at last. "For poor little Ginny's sake I wouldn't leave it too long". He left the pub, leaving two thoughtful and troubled red-haired twins behind him.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading; I hope you enjoyed this chapter. PD**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Hello everyone and welcome to this latest chapter.**

* * *

Chapter 7

 _The Burrow,_

 _Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, United Kingdom_

"We can't just give him what we're working on," Fred Weasley began rehashing the discussion he and his twin brother had been having ever since Draco Malfoy had left them in the _Leaky Cauldron_ after making his offer.

"Which means we can't tell mum or dad about it," George noted.

"Too true; knowing we have a way to maybe help Ginny and not using it would kill them – every bit as much as it's hurting us."

"If they thought about it rationally they'd agree."

"We'd be beholden to Malfoy forever."

"Blackmailed endlessly."

"Not to mention we'd be selling state secrets."

"With what we're working on that's possibly even treason - depending on what he wants it for."

"At the very least least Azkaban."

"We'd get Ginny's old cell," they concluded in unison; usually this resulted in broad smiles from the twins, not on this occasion though.

"Is there anything else we can do to help her out? If _Malfoy_ has that sort of influence then surely somebody else does as well."

"Somebody with less of an agenda."

"What are you two plotting?" their mother, Molly, asked suspiciously. After a fraught few days the dam was always going to burst – and the twins were always going to be the recipients. "It's bad enough Ginny's in that place and Ron's in trouble without you two…" she broke off, put her hand over her face and broke into sobs again. Molly's rant, followed by tears, was always going to have her husband, Arthur, running to see what the problem was.

"Boys, what's going on?"

"We were just talking," Fred protested.

"Yes, something came up that has us troubled."

"Well whatever you do, _please_ don't get into any bother over it," their father was almost begging. "Two Weasley children with legal problems is _more_ than enough for one year."

"Ok dad," George answered with a resigned sigh; Arthur steered Molly back to the kitchen for a calming cup of tea.

"Well there we go," Fred observed. "Dad has just ordered us not to do anything to get into trouble. Looks like we have to decline Malfoy's _generous_ offer."

"You're sounding just like our older brother," his twin complained.

"Imagine telling Percy," Fred sniggered.

" _He tried to get you to do what?_ " George imitated the pompous Weasley's tone. " _You_ must _tell your Head of Department at once…_ "

The twins looked at one another as the penny dropped, along with their jaws.

"And who's smarter than Hermione?" Fred's voice now held some excitement and just a kernel of hope.

"Luna shares an office with her; she's no dumb blonde herself."

"As a Head of Department she might know someone who can help Ginny as well." It was a long-shot but the Weasley twins would clutch at any straw they could right now.

"I think, dear brother, we might just find a way out of this…"

 _Malfoy Manor,_

 _Swindon_

Draco stepped nervously out of the floo; his father had _summoned_ him and that led the younger Malfoy to suspect he would be in a bad mood. Logically this meant he had learnt of Draco's ejection from the Ministry earlier.

"Master demands to see Young Master immediately," Dobby informed him as Draco put his cloak on the table; the elf picked it up to hang up. "Master is in his study." Dobby disappeared with a _crack_.

The blond swallowed nervously and made his way to where Lucius was waiting.

The door to the study was ajar; Draco knocked a couple of times before entering timidly. Lucius looked up and scowled. He pointed with his quill to one of the chairs in the room; his son sank into it and began studying his shoes while Lucius returned to whatever he was writing.

Seconds turned into a minute; the ticking of the clock sounded to Draco like a countdown to his doom. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and he tried to subtly wipe them off on his sleeve. Finally, Lucius set his quill down and began to glare at his son, whose head was still bowed.

"Do you have any idea," the senior Malfoy began; Draco reluctantly looked up, "what your stupidity today has done? How much gold it cost me to stop the Minister from taking things further? What on _earth_ were you thinking, publically insulting the Minister's wife like that?"

Draco sat quietly, hoping it was a rhetorical question. It wasn't.

"Well? What have you to say for yourself?"

"I went to the Granger bitch's department to track down the Weasel twins," he began, growing in confidence as he insulted those he thought to be the lowest of the low. "I asked Lovegood – at least she's a Pureblood so, naturally, she was the one I spoke to…" He paused, hoping his father would agree with him. He was disappointed when Lucius remained silent. "She told me to speak to the mudblood. I told her that sort of thing was beneath me and she asked me if I thought that way about _all_ of them, even the Minister's wife. Of course I do," he snorted. "I hadn't realised Potter was stood behind me."

"That's _all_ you said?" Lucius prompted; Draco remained silent so he continued, "You didn't threaten to rape her by any chance?"

"I never _said_ that," the Malfoy scion defended himself.

"Potter clearly thought you meant it." Draco shrugged and Lucius closed his eyes, sighing deeply. "I've told you before. There's nothing wrong with _holding_ such eminently sensible views but you have to learn subtlety, Draco. You can't just go around _saying_ such things in public – as you've found out they get you into trouble, a lot of trouble, _especially_ when you don't know exactly who is listening." He then dropped the other part of the bombshell. "Potter has banned you from entering the Ministry for six months." Draco gasped. "Yes, you see that your usefulness has diminished drastically."

"I did manage to speak to the Weasels," Draco uttered desperately, hoping to improve his father's opinion of him.

"And..?"

"I made the offer: the gold for the Weaslette in exchange for what they're working on. I left it with them, secure in the knowledge that the offer wouldn't last too long."

"Good. Find them again tomorrow. Let them know the deal expires tomorrow night."

"Yes father."

"Now get out of my sight."

Draco scrambled to his feet and fled for the sanctuary of the drawing room where he found his mother. Unfortunately she was just getting ready to leave.

"Your father has a meeting with his associates tonight so I'm going out for the evening."

Draco bowed his head again. He called for Dobby, retrieved his cloak and flooed back to his flat.

* * *

Once his wife and son had left, Lucius made his own way to the drawing room. The floo crackled moments later and his allies made their way into the room. Macnair, Avery, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Babbock, Regulus Black and Crouch (Jr) were all assembled, along with one other, who seemed rather reluctant to be there and who spent most of his time trying to blend into the background.

"We all know why we're here," Malfoy began. "The government is moving ever further away from a sensible agenda and we need to get it back on track. To do that we need to remove the Minister and replace him with someone…" his eyes lingered on the younger Black brother, "more suitable: a believer in the purity of blood and in our right to run our world the way it _should_ be run." The gathering nodded their agreement. "Wormtail!" the senior Malfoy called to the figure lurking in the shadows. "It's time for you to earn some of that retainer you get for being our man on the inside," he continued as the portly wizard shuffled his way into view. "I want to know what our delightful Minister is up to."

"You know, Lucius, that he sent his son to track down the Veela?" Pettigrew stuttered nervously, not liking being the centre of attention.

"A fool's errand," Macnair scoffed.

"He has found them," Pettigrew confirmed; the gathering looked at him in shock.

"Are you certain?" Malfoy asked.

"The Minister himself said so. His wife is also walking around with a new spring in her step; they spoke to the brat at the weekend."

"Intriguing. I suppose he is pursuing his insane dream of a treaty with these creatures?"

"That is correct. Harry has made the Ministry's case to their Queen and is awaiting her answer. But that's not all," Pettigrew continued as his benefactors spluttered in ire, "he has sent Lupin to France to seek the friendship of their werewolves."

"Potter's Magical Menagerie," Babbock quipped.

"When the Wizengamot hears this," Malfoy smiled murderously, "working behind a till in Diagon Alley will be the only job our _esteemed_ Minister is capable of getting. I might just let my son see if Potter's mudblood _is_ worthy of him after all, see if she can finally make a man of him."

 _Department of Magical Research,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London_

 _Tuesday, 14_ _th_ _October 2003_

Two nervous twins appeared in their boss's office shortly after Hermione arrived for work (Luna was already at her desk; Hermione sometimes wondered if she ever went home or just slept there – assuming the strange blonde _did_ sleep; Hermione often thought she daydreamed through life and maybe that counted as sleep for her).

"Boss, could we speak to you please?" Fred asked. "It's a rather sensitive matter."

"I need to get a drink of water," Luna declared, getting to her feet.

"You don't have to," George said hurriedly; "we'd value your insight as well."

"That's the kindest thing anyone's said to me this month." The blonde smiled and sat down again, though from the look on her face one could only guess whether or not she was actually listening. The rooms other occupants shared an awkward look at her declaration.

"So what's the matter?" Hermione asked brusquely, seeing no need for preamble.

"Well, you know what's been going on with our family recently?" Fred prompted, knowing that mentioning Ron by name was rather a bad idea around Hermione.

"Yes, I heard what happened to your sister; everyone seems to think she was rather poorly treated."

"Right." George nodded gratefully. "Well, Draco Malfoy approached us in the _Leaky Cauldron_ last night after work."

"Oh, he said he was looking for you yesterday," Luna piped up, "right before he insulted Minister Potter's wife and got thrown out of the Ministry."

The twins exchanged shocked looks at this revelation; only a questioning glance at their boss, which was answered by a small nod, convinced them the blonde hadn't either dreamed or imagined what she was saying.

"He insulted _me_ too," Miss Granger recalled with a hint of anger in her voice. "So what did the ferret have to say?"

It was a measure of the seriousness of the situation that neither twin smiled at the ferret jibe. "He told us he could pull some strings and get our sister out of Azkaban." The two girls stared wide-eyed at the twins.

"Of course," Fred added darkly, "there would be a price to pay."

"How much?" Hermione asked. "He _must_ know your family's er… circumstances." She gave them an apologetic look for bringing up the Weasleys' lack of wealth.

"He didn't want money – he wanted our technology. Samples of what we were working on and, we can only assume, us to make more items for him and his cronies."

"You didn't agree?" Hermione's tone was both horrified and accusatory.

"No, of course not," Fred shot that down instantly. "He left us to think about it."

"The only thing we were thinking about," his twin continued, "was how to help Ginny _without_ getting into Malfoy's clutches."

"He'd start blackmailing us in an instant."

"Of course," Luna agreed, "letting it slip that you'd given Ministry secrets to people would see you in a lot of trouble."

"We know," Fred nodded, "but at the same time we wanted to help Ginny."

"Getting Malfoy into trouble over this would be nice too," Hermione was still smarting over his words from the previous day. "How do we do it though?"

"That's easy," Luna commented. "We tell the Minister."

"Luna," Hermione chuckled, "even as Head of this Department I don't have direct access to the Minister. _He_ has to come to _me_ and he doesn't pay me all that many visits."

"You know, Hermione, for such a genius I've always thought you incredibly one-dimensional in your thinking."

"You have a plan?" George asked hopefully.

"Of course," the blonde smiled.

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

While there were precious few similarities between him and Malfoy, nervous was also an adjective that could be applied to Harry at the moment. The court's private deliberations seemed to be continuing endlessly and, while he was enjoying his time in the comfort of the castle, he really wanted an answer (provided, of course, it was a positive answer) for a number of reasons – chief among them, of course, was the concern over the rising power of the Empire in the east (his father had passed on word during their last floo chat about the annexation of Transylvania; they had yet to learn of the fall of Poland as well) but also from a career standpoint; successful negotiations would be a feather in his cap, help dispel any claims of nepotism getting him his assignment and set his future career up rather nicely (maybe, he thought, he could one day be in position for his dad's current job – _if_ he wanted it). The last reason, he would have to admit to himself, was somewhat more primal; he was surrounded by beautiful women and having to be on his best behaviour – once the deal was completed he could maybe start talking nicely to one or two of them about some nocturnal companionship. Those thoughts had to be ruthlessly squashed as he was approached by a courtier; his presence was required in yet another meeting to clarify a few points.

 _Imps Stadium,_

 _Ilkley Moor, West Yorkshire, United Kingdom_

Neville apparated to a point just outside the stadium but inside the area contained by muggle-repelling spells. He had told colleagues he might need a slightly extended lunch (he hadn't told Amelia Bones; he may be a Gryffindor but he wasn't _that_ brave – he'd deal with her on his return if needs be). The young Longbottom was asking himself what he was doing here as he looked around before he admitted it to himself: he couldn't stop thinking about Jen.

It was an odd thing; she was certainly not the first girl he'd slept with so he wasn't sure why their night (and following morning) together had had such a profound effect on him. Yes she was pretty but so had been almost all the others. He tried to tell himself that this was one of the things he was going to try and figure out when he saw her.

"Seeing her" didn't take long; after speaking to the manager and getting approval to be there (useful, he decided, to be both an Auror _and_ a Longbottom sometimes) he walked out to the pitch and looked up to see her speeding through the sky. At the distance she was from him he couldn't see her face but her rapid movement and change of direction showed that she had seen the snitch and was in pursuit. He briefly looked away to see the team's chasers working on their drills with a Quaffle, while the keeper was defending shots being taken by others (he assumed them to be the team's reserve chasers) with the added complication of one beater sending a bludger at him (the other was firing the second bludger at Jen while she tried to catch the snitch; the heavy balls looked to have been charmed to return to the beater after a few seconds, ready to be fired again).

Turning back to the seeker, Neville raised a clenched fist and stifled a cheer as he saw Jen rise back up into the air, her own fist clenched; "her" beater had tucked his bat under his arm and was applauding her – at least until the bludger returned and he had to dodge it before it began to circle him dangerously. The two of them made their way cautiously down to the ground, the ball still tracking them.

A shout distracted Neville from watching them; he turned back to see the second bludger flying away from the keeper while he moved in the opposite direction – unfortunately that direction was down and without his broom. A quick _Arresto Momentum_ from Neville slowed him; the coach casting the same spell meant he had a soft landing. The two of them raced over as the rest of the team landed around him.

"It ricocheted off his arm into his nose," one of the back-up chasers informed their coach.

"Looks to have broken both," a second added.

"Lucky you cast those spells," Jen noted, before seeing that it was Neville stood there. "Oh hi!" she smiled broadly at him; his smile in response was a lot more nervous.

"How is he?" the coach asked as the medic looked over the stricken keeper.

"As Hetherington said, those spells prevented serious injury – or worse. The breaks I can fix easily but he's likely to be concussed. We'll know more when he wakes but if so he won't play this weekend."

"Oh great," the coach buried his head in his hands. "Perfect timing, what with Weasley getting himself arrested and us sacking him as a result. We need a new keeper then. Looks like I need to call around and see if we can get someone on loan. Normally we'd call the Arrows but I think they're having to play _their_ reserve this week." He sighed.

Jen, meanwhile, had walked to the side of the pitch with Neville, now she knew the keeper wasn't in serious danger and there was nothing she could do for him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I came to see you," he admitted. "I… I really wanted to see you again."

"Really?" Her heart soared a little; as much as she'd enjoyed their time together and was secretly hoping for a repeat she wasn't expecting anything, given the boy's past reputation.

"Yeah, I was wondering… if there's an evening that you don't have anything better to do… whether maybe we could…" She silenced him with a kiss; pulling back she saw his shy, worried features had been replaced by a broad smile.

"How about tonight?"

"I'll pick you up at 8?" he asked. "That should be late enough that even if Madame Bones foists something on me this afternoon I can be done by then… I hope."

"Eight is fine," she chuckled. "If it's going to be later just floo call me?"

"Sure," he smiled in relief. "Well, I should get back to work… and let you get back to it too."

"Oh Neville?" she called as he turned to go; he stopped and looked back at her. "How would you like to come to the match on Saturday as my guest?"

"That would be great," he enthused.

"I'll make sure the ticket's at the office on Saturday," she promised. They kissed again before he left, a massive spring in his step.

"Right Hetherington," the coach had appeared behind her; she turned to look at him, smiling as broadly as Neville was. "Looks like you're going to have to play the game of your life this weekend. The only way we're going to win is if the chasers can keep hold of the Quaffle and keep it away from our goal and if you catch the snitch early enough." He finished with a playful jibe for his captain. "You wouldn't want to lose when your boyfriend's watching now, would you?"

She chuckled as she watched the Auror go. "No," she agreed, "that would never do."

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

"It has been a long day," the Queen declared. Harry agreed wholeheartedly; when he'd been summoned he thought he'd be there for an hour or so at most, instead it was now early evening and he'd been fielding questions all day from various quarters (he was sure he'd answered some of them before and suspected the hostile elements were trying to either catch him out or play for time in their efforts to disrupt things). "We should adjourn until morning and will give our decision then." Harry nodded wearily and several members of the council also looked exhausted. "Go to your chambers," she advised him with a sympathetic smile, "someone will attend you soon with dinner."

He thanked her and trudged through the castle back to his room, greeting the few women he passed with tired nods and a handful of words when he couldn't avoid doing so.

Once in his room he flopped on his bed and closed his eyes. He felt sleep tantalisingly close when he was disturbed by a knock before the door opened.

"Emissary? May I enter?"

"Of course," he wriggled up the bed until he sat resting his back against the headboard. He smiled as the young girl who had served him the previous day entered holding a tray.

"I have your meal," she nodded at the tray, crossing the room and setting it down on the desk. "Would you like me to draw you a bath while you eat?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you," he replied gratefully. Harry swung his legs off the bed and crossed the room to his desk while the girl disappeared into the bathroom.

"Your bath is ready," she declared, just as he was finishing his dinner; he walked into the bathroom, disrobed and sank into the hot water with a contented sigh.

"Would you like a massage?" His eyes snapped open as he heard the girl's voice from behind him; he assumed she'd have left him after preparing his bath. He wasn't about to turn down her offer though.

"That would be wonderful," he accepted wearily.

"Lean forwards," she urged him; his eyes widened but he did so, moving to the end of the bath and leaning against it. Moments later he heard a splash behind him and had to assume that the girl was joining him in the bath, something seemingly confirmed when he felt her hands on his shoulders.

Harry sighed again as her hands worked their magic; he felt the aches, pains and fatigue of the day disappear under her deft ministrations, trying not to think of her clear state of undress when he felt her chest contact with his back on occasion.

"Is this better, emissary?" she asked when she appeared to be finishing up.

"Yes, it was magnificent thank you; you are very talented," he replied, not looking round.

"The Queen says the same thing," she giggled, seizing his shoulders once more and working the muscles again.

"Oh, you're her personal masseuse?" he asked in surprise, not expecting that the holder of such a position would be assigned to be a mere servant to anyone, even a visiting dignitary.

The girl giggled again. "Not exactly," she replied, but didn't elaborate. Harry was disappointed when she let go of his shoulders, bringing the relaxing and enjoyable massage to an end; he heard her get out of the bath and gave her a little longer to get dressed again before lying back down and chancing a glance at her. The girl was wrapped in a towel with her uniform in her hands.

"What should I call you?" he asked, curiously.

"My name is Gabrielle, Emissary; my friends, though, call me Gabbi," she replied shyly.

"Well thank you Gabrielle," he smiled. With a small bow she left the bathroom; Harry heard the door of his suite open and close before he let out a sigh of relief; he enjoyed the rest of his bath, certain in the knowledge that the negotiations would not occupy his thoughts or his dreams tonight.

 _Department of Magical Law Enforcement,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

Neville was smiling as he returned. Not only did he have a date for the night (and probably another for Saturday) but he was also back at his desk well within an hour so Amelia Bones wouldn't be able to be upset with him (not for this anyway). So he was in a very good mood when a deputation of his former schoolmates arrived at his desk.

"Hermione?" He was surprised to see his old classmate. "Fred? George?" He spotted the twins then turned his eye to the fourth member of the group. "Oh, hi Luna," he knew her quite well from her time as Harry's girlfriend. "What can I do for you all?"

"We have a little problem and were wondering if you could pass on a message for us," the blonde began. "You see, the twins here have been approached regarding swapping secrets for Ginny's release." Neville's gaze immediately snapped to the two of them; as an Auror his stance on this was non-negotiable.

"Obviously we're going to say no to his generous offer," George added hurriedly.

"But we were wondering if we could use this to somehow make Draco suffer for this."

"Malfoy?" Neville perked up. "I'd certainly like to get something on him that his daddy can't get him out of. Especially after what happened yesterday. Dad says the Minister was seething."

"So we need a plan," Hermione observed. "Some way to get enough on Malfoy that he's stuffed and, ideally, a way to help Ginny too."

Neville looked decidedly less enthusiastic at the second part of the plan; while he could concede that Ginny had been harshly treated by the system, she _was_ a criminal and he'd done his job. He kept this to himself but a raised, blonde eyebrow showed that Luna had noted his reticence. She contented herself with an enigmatic smile in his direction for now.

"Can we talk about this tonight?" Fred asked, energised by the hope the fledgling strategizing was giving him.

"I'm busy tonight," Neville said, "but I'll certainly pass on what Malfoy's been up to to my dad. I assume that's at least part of why you wanted me on board?"

Luna nodded. "We'll see you tomorrow then." As they filed out she called, "Enjoy your date." Neville's incredulous, questioning gaze was met by another of the blonde's enigmatic smiles.

 _The Leaky Cauldron,_

 _Charing Cross Road_

The twins were, again, in the dingy pub for a drink after work. This time they were hoping that Malfoy would show up, and they weren't disappointed. The smug blond put on his finest swagger, masking his own nervousness at having to deliver _something_ to appease his father. Spying the redheads he went straight to their table and sat down.

"So," he began without pausing for niceties, "do we have a deal? Or does your sister have to stay in Azkaban?"

Fred looked to his brother, indicating he should speak for them. He put his hands in his lap, ostensibly to hide his nervousness but really to put the borrowed dictaquill on the parchment he had balanced on his knees. It might not yield anything admissible but he knew Neville would make good use of anything that was said. "It would have to be a _very_ good deal," George told Malfoy, "because anything we give you is government property. If somebody found out…" He gave a very real shudder at the thought.

"The fearless Weasley twins?" Draco scoffed. "Worried about something like that while their baby sister sits in a cell?" He shook his head. "I expected better from you."

Fred pretended to bite. "Say we _did_ give you something. What _exactly_ would we get for it."

Malfoy glanced around before leaning forwards; he lowered his voice. "The gold for your sister's fine plus an… inducement to the review body of the Wizengamot; they would then be _minded_ to release her early."

"Anything else? For us personally?" George pressed.

"The knowledge that you had secured her release," he said smugly before settling back into his seat, arms folded over his chest. "So, do we have a deal? This offer expires tonight. If I don't get a yes tonight, poor Ginny is beyond even my help."

The twins looked at one another with identical, troubled expressions. Malfoy stood. "I'll give you a few moments to consider your answer," and he headed to the bar.

Fred caught the dictaquill, preventing it from minuting their private discussion. "Looks like we're ready to go, George."

His twin agreed. "We'll get the what, the when and the where – and then we can prepare the trap."

Malfoy returned, his cocky swagger now genuine, especially when he saw the Weasleys' faces; he didn't see Fred release the dictaquill again. "So do we have a deal?"

They shared one more, reluctant glance. "We do," they agreed in unison.

"Excellent," Draco smiled, "here's what we'll do."

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

 _Wednesday, 15_ _th_ _October 2003_

Harry woke early and, having dressed in his last fresh set of robes in anticipation of the Queen's decision, he followed the aroma of food and found himself in a large dining hall.

"Emissary," one of the women he recognised from the court gave him a small, respectful bow, which he returned. "Please," she gestured to the tables; like on his previous experience of dining in this hall they were laden with food and empty, clean plates, "you may sit anywhere you wish, other than at the royal table of course," she gestured to the empty but sumptuously decorated table at the far end of the hall.

"Thank you," he smiled at her and walked to a table where two women around his age sat talking. "May I sit here?" he asked; the girls blushed slightly but nodded awkwardly. He thanked them and took a seat.

A couple of tables away, one of the courtiers who was less happy with his presence narrowed her eyes at the spectacle; she nodded to the woman sitting next to her – it was time to put their plan into action.

Harry left the table in high spirits; he had enjoyed his breakfast and liked talking to the girls. They had chatted freely about life in the enclave and given him some interesting titbits of information about the Veela race without even realising they were doing so. He spotted two of the women he'd met during the negotiations and made to greet them when four more stepped from the shadows, neatly surrounding him.

"It is time for you to leave," the ringleader, who he recognised as Marie, his chief antagonist in the whole process, declared.

"You, and all wizards, are not welcome here," another agreed

"Isn't that your Queen's decision to make?" he asked defiantly.

"She will thank us in time," the woman replied confidently.

"First, though, we must remove all trace of knowledge of us from your mind," Marie advanced on him.

Harry looked around at the angry courtiers. "Now, ladies," he began nervously, showing his empty hands. "I'm here to promote better relations between your people and mine. I'm not a threat."

" _All_ wizards are a threat to us," Marie replied. "They want to either kill us or enslave us. _That_ is what wizards mean to us and slavery is all that a wizard thinks we are good for. And a society with witches too? They will _always_ be threatened by us. No, you have to go, and you have to forget all about meeting us."

She pulled out her wand and pointed between his eyes. " _Obliviate!_ " she cried.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Hello everyone; I have another chapter for you all. As ever my thanks for all reads and reviews; the feedback is greatly appreciated.**

* * *

Chapter 8

As he heard the spell being cast, Harry had a split-second to react; he was confident that his charmed glasses would protect him (and if they didn't he wouldn't be able to do anything about it anyway at such close range) but he didn't want the spell to deflect and hit one of the women, even if it _would_ be one of his assailants. He made his decision and, as the beam of light leapt from the Veela's wand, he jerked his head back a fraction, tilting his face up. As a result the spell rebounded harmlessly into the ceiling, to the stunned amazement of his attackers.

The caster stared at her wand as the other women looked from Harry to each other for a moment before a loud shout ended the altercation.

"ENOUGH!" the queen's voice boomed through the hall; she swept towards them flanked by a posse of her Royal Guards. "You assault our guest?" she challenged the ringleader furiously, wand still pointing in Harry's direction; it was lowered immediately in deference to the monarch's presence. "A diplomat? You could start a war!" She shook her head angrily. "He is _our_ guest, negotiating with _us_ for the betterment of our nations: this could _easily_ be called a plot against the nation – treason!" The women shrank at this threat. The young Veela queen gestured to the guards. "Take them to the cells," and then turned to Harry. "Are you ok?" she asked as her guards fired stunners at Harry's attackers before disarming them and dragging them off.

"Yes, Your Majesty, I'm fine," he confirmed.

"How?" One of the friendlier courtiers, Danielle, who had witnessed the attack asked incredulously as she appeared at his side. "She was right in your face! I saw that there was no way any of us could intervene to stop the spell."

"Oh," he chuckled, smiling at the woman; he remembered her from the meetings and talking to her over breakfast, "a little something our Ministry developed." He took off his glasses and showed them to her. "They look ordinary, so do my robes, but they have shield charms somehow woven into them – don't ask me how it's done, suffice it to say that the guys who did it are geniuses."

"Amazing," the queen gaped.

"Yes. They wouldn't stop a _really_ powerful curse like an unforgivable but as you see they're very effective against routine attacking spells," when the queen frowned at the term he's used he explained how using _cruciatus_ , _imperius_ and _avada kedavra_ on another human had been outlawed decades ago in Britain.

"And on a Veela?" she asked curiously; Harry had to admit he didn't know what the current state of the law was.

"But I'm sure that with my father seeking friendship between our peoples that Veela either are or, on signing of a treaty between us soon will be, covered by it too," he assured her; she gave a cautious nod. Harry steeled himself as he made a snap decision, hoping that his father would back him up on it later. "We are also prepared to offer access to this technology to your warriors," he revealed, "I fear it will be not only useful but essential in the near future with the Empire continuing its expansion." He was gambling on James agreeing that, even if the methods used themselves remained secret, they would be able to prepare some shielded clothing for Veela to use in case of a battle.

"The prospect of having our warriors protected is a good thing, especially in these times," the queen nodded her agreement with his assessment of what was coming and thanked him for the generous offer before sweeping off to another part of the castle accompanied by her remaining bodyguard.

"I suggest that you return to your quarters for now, Emissary," Danielle advised. "There may be talks later on but the Queen is in no mood for discussion right now; she will likely want to deal with the charges against them first and make preparations for their trial and sentencing."

He nodded and took the well-worn path back to his room. No sooner had Harry returned there, however, than there was an urgent knocking on the door; he opened the door and Gabrielle timidly shuffled into the room.

"I heard what happened, Emissary. Are you alright?" she asked him breathlessly.

"Yes, I'm fine, the curse deflected harmlessly off my glasses." He then gave her a quick description of the shield charms on his apparel.

"The queen is furious. She wants to charge them with treason. I worry that that would be a mistake."

"Oh?" Harry asked.

"Emissary, what do you think the penalty for treason is?"

Harry didn't need to think for too long. "Execution," he concluded glumly, thinking of the opinions on capital punishment he had inherited from Lily; they were at odds with those of most of his Pureblood contemporaries but James was slowly being swayed by her arguments and coming to agree with his wife's views. It would be an almost impossible battle to win in the Wizengamot as even the lighter factions tended to support the death penalty in some cases and for certain crimes but the hope was that, as the influence of muggle-borns increased and their views and opinions became more accepted due to his reforms, this too would change eventually.

"Correct," the young Veela confirmed with a nod.

Harry frowned. "I wouldn't wish that on them… on _anybody_ really," he said quietly.

"Then you need to speak to the queen – and quickly." He looked quizzically so Gabbi continued, "If she charges them with treason then it becomes about them committing a crime against the nation, against _her_ _as queen_ and there will be no other option than to see them killed. If she charges them with an attack on _you_ then under our laws you would be entitled to give your opinion on what their sentence should be. Her Majesty is not _obliged_ to listen to you, of course, but I'm sure she would, given the circumstances."

"It would certainly help some of the waverers see me in a better light," he commented thoughtfully, reflecting on the opinion of the court to his earlier words.

"Come," she urged, taking his hand and leading him hurriedly to a part of the castle he'd never seen before. Gabbi knocked on the door before saying, "I must leave you now. Good luck," and disappearing down a corridor.

The door opened. "What do you want?" the woman, judging from her dress she was one of the Royal Guard, asked tersely.

"I wish to speak to the Queen regarding the ambush this morning."

The Guard studied him for a moment; he thought he could detect just a trace of sympathy for him after the episode. "Wait here."

The door was closed in his face and Harry waited patiently for a few moments before it opened again. "Her Majesty will see you now," the woman beckoned him inside before leading him through another door into an office; the queen sat behind the desk with a glower on her face, though she brightened a little as she looked at him.

"What do you wish to discuss, Emissary?" she asked, setting down her quill as the guard bowed to her monarch before leaving them alone.

"Your Majesty, my mother's parents were not magical and non-magical Britain no longer executes people. Her influence in my upbringing means sentencing someone to death is not something I am comfortable with, even for an attack on my person. Therefore," he took a deep breath, "Your Majesty, I request that any charges you bring are charges for attacking _me_ rather than of treason against the nation. That way I have the ability to appeal to you for clemency at their trial."

"It is tough to argue that they deserve it for their crime."

"If it was deserved, it wouldn't be clemency," he smiled enigmatically before turning serious again. "Maybe it is not deserved, Your Majesty, but another reason for granting it is that executing courtiers for crimes against me could alienate some of your moderates," he used Gabrielle's argument. "It could make a treaty with us less likely to be supported in your court. At the very least my appeal should win support for co-operation."

"Your request will be considered," she promised. As she turned back to her parchment and picked up her quill again he recognised his dismissal; Harry thanked her for hearing his argument and left to return to his room.

 _Department of Magical Law Enforcement,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

"Hi Neville," Fred walked into the office, causing the Senior Auror to look up. "Late night?" he asked teasingly, seeing his slightly puffy-eyed look.

"No," Neville smirked, "actually I was in bed quite early."

George sniggered. "Nice going Nev."

"What have you got for me?" he asked, wanting to change the subject away from his private life.

George handed over the parchment from the previous evening; Neville skimmed through it, privately lamenting that this wasn't admissible as evidence in a trial. He reached the end and stood up, looking at the twins.

"Well, let's go have a chat with dad," he proposed; they followed him out of the office.

 _Deputy Minister's Office_

"Neville! To what do I owe the pleasure?" Frank Longbottom asked as his son walked in, flanked by the two redheads.

"These two _gentlemen_ ," the twins sniggered at the sarcastic description, "have a problem that they brought to my attention," and he explained to his father about Malfoy's attempt to induce them to hand over state secrets in exchange for their sister's freedom. While Frank could detect his son's reluctance to help Ginny get out of prison (the twins were either genuinely oblivious or feigning it) he felt excitement at the possibility of finally having something on the Malfoys that they couldn't buy their way out of.

"We should take this to James," he commented before drumming his fingers on his desk for a couple of moments. "He's in a meeting with Barty right now; I think Crouch would like to know this too." He stood and the small delegation made its way to the Minister's Office. "Hi Lily," he greeted the Minister's wife. "I know he's busy but I think he'll want to hear this."

Mrs Potter just shrugged. "Go ahead, Frank."

James and Barty looked up as Frank, Neville and the twins entered the office. "Sorry to interrupt," Frank began, "but I think you'll want to hear this," and the story was told again.

"What?" James was rather angry at the conclusion of their tale. "He's trying to buy government secret property from you?"

"Yes," Fred confirmed. "Of course we're not going to sell him any, just make him _think_ that we are. Ideally we'd help Ginny too." James saw the quick grimace cross Neville's face at this but chose to ignore it.

"Ok," he took a breath, "thank you for bringing this to my attention. Neville, you'll work liaise with the Weasleys to set up the operation. Do whatever you need to to bring him down." The trio nodded and left the room, leaving the Minister, his deputy and the Chief Warlock behind. "Barty – if that little shit is trying this then it's a given that daddy Malfoy is behind it." Crouch nodded. "That being the case I think we can be sure his cronies know about it. I'll talk to Peter but I think we need another source of information – one that we _know_ is reliable."

Crouch nodded again. "I'll get the answers I can for you tonight," he promised. "I think we should leave our meeting for now." The Minister nodded as his mentor bustled out of the office.

"Who does he know that can get information from Malfoy?" Frank asked curiously.

"His son, Barty Junior," James replied grimly.

* * *

"Peter!" the Minister greeted Wormtail warmly as he arrived in answer to his old friend's summons.

"Hello James," he smiled as he entered, a little nervous as he picked up on Lily's lack of warmth towards him.

"How was the meeting at Malfoy Manor?" the Minister asked without preamble.

"I passed on the information you wanted me to; they seemed surprised that mini-Prongs had been successful in his search. They were _definitely_ surprised that Moony is in France reaching out to the continent's werewolves." He chuckled. "they definitely told me I earned my retainer that night."

"And what did _they_ have to say?" he pressed, starting to mentally agree with his wife that he wasn't sure how far he could trust his old friend.

"Lucius and Regulus are going to be talking to the Wizengamot, informally of course. Malfoy will be spreading his gold around while the runt of the litter tries to mobilise his allies in the chamber. James," Peter sounded earnest, "they're going to try and use your stance towards these 'creatures'," he air-quoted the word in an effort to show his distaste at the term, "to push the moderates to agree to unseat you. Then Regulus will be put forward as the dark side's candidate and Malfoy will orchestrate everything from the background – including," Pettigrew decided to try and show he was still on the Minister's side, "making a pact with the Empire with a view to them ultimately running the show with Regulus being little more than a puppet, only he'd be Karkaroff's puppet and not Malfoy's at that point. Of course he kept this to himself until Sirius's brother had been sent off to talk to some of the other members."

"What's in it for Malfoy then?" James asked curiously.

"He says he's close to the Emperor and his friends and wants to be the key ally and contact in Britain. Basically he sees himself still controlling the Minister, albeit passing on Karkaroff's instructions, which he thinks would more or less match his own. Prongs," he concluded desperately, "if he succeeds you _know_ what this means for Lily and the rest of the muggle-borns."

James nodded grimly. "I think, Wormtail, that we need to start a quiet counter-attack. Key to this is keeping Malfoy and his cronies in the dark."

"What can I give him?" Peter was eager to have something to bring to Malfoy's next meeting and retain his usefulness (and continue to collect his retainers from him) as well as keeping himself safe in case James's ministry did fall.

"Discord with France."

"They're upset?"

"They always are with us," James smiled briefly. "But yes, their ambassador contacted me this morning; their Minister wishes to speak to me so I can only assume that news of Remus's mission has reached her and she's displeased with our offer."

"Thanks, Prongs," Peter stood up. "That should be worth something." He grinned. "Evidence that the current Minister is leaving us increasingly isolated in Europe."

James frowned at the assessment; if that view gained traction then it _could_ be used as a means to bring him down. He nodded curtly as Pettigrew left. Now he had to speak to Barty again; Barty Jr's corroboration would go a long way towards assuaging Lily's doubts – and his own – about his old friend's loyalties.

 _Courtroom 4_

Elsewhere in the Ministry, Lucius was meeting with some of the darker faction of the Wizengamot. _Officially_ Regulus had, as a member of the body, called the meeting, though he was actually absent from the meeting as he had another engagement.

"The time is coming," Malfoy sneered. "We have information about Potter's plans and schemes and we are looking to garner more support against him. When the moment arrives, when the votes add up for us, we will make our move and install a proper Minister, one who recognises and upholds our proud traditions."

"What about your plans to get closer to the Empire?"

"My son will soon have _all_ the Ministry's little secret weapons and gadgets. We can use them to make sure we take a prominent place in the New Order."

Dark chuckles filled the room.

 _Courtroom 5_

The reason for Regulus's absence was his presence in a different meeting; he was speaking to some of the more traditionally neutral members – and many didn't like what they were hearing.

"He's reaching out to the Veela? And making offers to werewolves? Encouraging them to come _here_?" Regulus hadn't actually _said_ that but had invited them to reach that conclusion based on the friendly vibes Remus was going to send out. "Has he taken leave of his senses?"

"It appears so," Black nodded gravely. "So can I count on your support to oppose these measures?"

"I certainly won't support them," one of the senior members declared gravely; some of the others seemed to be nodding in agreement though a number seemed unconvinced.

"How _exactly_ do you propose to stop these moves?" he was asked.

"Any treaty would have to be voted through the Wizengamot," Regulus noted. "We can see that it fails."

"That's not necessarily true," he was contradicted, "it depends on the scope of the treaty."

"So the only way to ensure this is stopped…" Regulus prompted.

"… would be to vote the Minister out of office."

The assembled members looked altogether less convinced about this course of action than they did about simply disrupting a treaty; seeing he was losing them, Black gave a theatrical sigh.

"Well if that's what it would take to prevent our country from being overrun by untamed and dangerous creatures…" he sighed again, "I hope you will be willing to do what is necessary to keep our homes and our families safe. I'm _also_ sure that we can find someone who could, reluctantly, be persuaded to serve as interim Minister if Potter _is_ removed." He let that sink in for a couple of seconds. "Thank you for your time," he bowed to the room and left a number of very thoughtful people behind, smiling as he heard mutterings begin.

 _Crouch residence,_

 _Horsham, West Sussex_

"Hello dear," Crouch greeted his wife wearily; it had been a long day for him and he really wasn't looking forward to what was coming tonight, what he felt he _had_ to do. "Can you give Bartemius and me some time after dinner tonight? I'd like to have a little chat with him."

His wife nodded; if she was curious by the request then, like a true Pureblood wife, she didn't show it, nor did she question her husband.

"Winky," Crouch turned to the house elf who had appeared to take his cloak, "you know what to do," he said simply but cryptically; the loyal elf nodded.

"Yes Master, it shall be done," and she disappeared with an audible _crack_. Again his wife didn't ask.

Dinner was an even more strained affair than normal in the Crouch household; Barty was nervous about questioning his son and fearful of what he could be about to discover about his cronies' plans. He knew what he was doing was at least _technically_ illegal but knew he needed to do it anyway; it was no understatement to say that the fate of his protégé's ministry could depend upon it – and with it the future of the society they were attempting to mould.

"Barty, we should have a drink," he gestured to his son and he followed his father to the living room, a slightly questioning look on his face as he did; Barty Sr. didn't usually pay too much attention to him and tended to leave him to his own devices after fulfilling the Purebood parental obligations of sitting down for a weekly meal together.

"Are you joining us mother?" he asked.

"No, I want to catch up on my reading," she replied, kissing her husband, then her son, on the cheek and heading for the manor's library.

Crouch set two glasses on the bar, noting the tiny amount of clear liquid in one of them. He poured a measure of firewhiskey into each and handed the doped one to his son; they clinked glasses before draining them. Crouch then refilled them, handing one to his son as he sat next to him.

"Barty," he began, "have you seen Malfoy recently?"

"Yes," was the only reply he got; the dull monotone showed the truth serum was working, though his son was trying to battle it by saying as little as possible; the look on his face was also telling.

"What were you discussing?"

"How to bring down Potter," the younger Crouch spat viciously, glaring at his father as he spilled his secret.

"How do your colleagues propose to do that?"

"Lucius is meeting our allies, mobilising them to prepare for a vote. Regulus has spoken to moderates, sowing dissent against Potter's plans to make peace with various creatures."

"Creatures…"

"Veela and werewolves."

"When will this move be made?"

"Once we have enough support. It will have to be after any treaty is signed."

"How else do you plan to obstruct the Minister's plans?"

"By forcing a vote on the treaty if at all possible."

The questioning continued until Crouch was satisfied he had found out everything there was to know about the plot; he was shaken by the fact that not only did his son _know_ so much about it he also agreed with all of the plans and was keen to do whatever it took to bring them to fruition. Barty was scared to see the sort of person his son had become, completely at odds with the path he himself had trodden.

"Stupefy!" Crouch caught the young man unawares and had him stunned. He picked up a bottle of cheap firewhiskey that he had bought earlier in the day for this specific purpose and tipped a generous measure down Barty Jr.'s throat, along with the antidote to the Veritaserum. Looking down at his stunned and now quite drunk son he added "Obliviate!" removing the evening from his mind, replacing it with a memory of entering a pub.

For good measure he put the lad in a body bind before having Winky move him to the bed in his old room; in the morning he would lift the bind, claiming to have smuggled his drunken son home, bound him to stop the risk of him injuring himself in the night and promising to say nothing about the incident to his mother, something he knew would earn him at least a little gratitude from him.

Crouch then headed to his study and retrieved his Pensieve. He dropped his memories of the evening into the bowl and tapped the base with his wand, enabling him to replay the evening and write down everything he'd learnt verbatim ahead of his now urgent discussion with James in the morning.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello everyone, welcome to this latest chapter of the story.**

* * *

Chapter 9

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom,_

 _Thursday, 16_ _th_ _October 2003_

"Good morning James," Barty entered the office and sat down.

"Barty. You look tired," the Minister observed, his smile of greeting for his mentor left his face as he studied him.

"Yes, I didn't sleep much last night after…"

"What did he say?" James interrupted in concern about what his predecessor may have learnt from his son's interrogation.

"He pretty much confirmed everything young Peter told you yesterday." Crouch reached into his briefcase and handed over the transcript he'd written from reviewing the Pensieve memories the night before. "What's worse is how much he _believed_ in what they were saying. I just can't believe a son of mine holds _those_ sorts of views, James."

"The question for now is what we do about their plans," James mused as he digested the notes he was reading; his eyes widened at the scope of their plans. "If we can pull off this sting operation on Malfoy Junior that will really help cut off Lucius – especially if it implicates him: that removes a lot of the funding."

"There's still the Black family who can finance it though," Barty warned.

"Yes," James scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Regulus siding with them is a big problem, especially with him, rather than Sirius, having a vote in the Wizengamot."

"Although that _does_ give us something of an opportunity," Crouch brightened. "It's high risk, of course, but _if_ Regulus challenges you and loses…"

"Then he has to give up his seat," James cottoned on to the suggestion.

"And by the old laws it would go to the family member with the strongest claim."

"Which, despite their parents' removing him as family heir, would be his brother." The Minister was smiling at the thought of adding the closest thing he had to a brother to the Wizengamot, especially as it would also remove such a key member of the opposition. "Hmm, maybe there _is_ something to be said for retaining some of the old ways after all." They shared a brief chuckle at the small argument against the reformist agenda they'd pursued during James's tenure to date.

"As I say, though, it's high risk – for him to actually _challenge_ the sitting Minister, given the penalties of losing, he'd need to confident that he _wouldn't_ lose," Barty struck a warning note.

"Yes, as much as I'd like another ally in the chamber I don't want to go down that route if we don't have to," James agreed.

"There are other options; clearly their ultimate aim _is_ to take over the government," Crouch observed.

"Provided they stick to legal, political means we can't touch them for it," James reminded him.

"No, of course not," his mentor sounded almost affronted at the suggestion. "But we can make sure that we're ready to pounce if and when they go beyond that."

"With our men on the inside helping us," the Minister smiled; Crouch gave a small nod.

 _Rue David Johnson,_

 _Bordeaux, France_

The man in the shadows caught a familiar scent as he watched people leaving their places of work. Lupin used his enhanced sense of smell (a rare positive to his affliction) to narrow down the people until he identified a fellow werewolf. He crept from shadow to shadow, taking care to stay upwind of his quarry until he tracked the man through the Public Gardens and ultimately to a small, run-down estate in the suburbs of the city. They turned a corner and Remus froze as the wind direction shifted a little, just enough to begin carrying _his_ scent towards his fellow lycanthrope. The man spun around, looking directly at the alley into which Lupin had tried to sneak.

"Who's there?" A harsh voice demanded. "Come, I know you're here."

Slowly, Remus emerged from the darkness, empty hands stretched in front of him. The Frenchman raised his eyebrows at the sight of an unusually well-dressed werewolf.

"What do you want?" he demanded, suspiciously.

"I mean you no harm," Lupin began. "My name is Remus John Lupin; like you I am a werewolf, which means I know just how much shit much of the magical community shovels on our kind."

"British," the French werewolf muttered, basing his identification on Lupin's name and accent.

Remus nodded. "I am fortunate, I am a friend of our Minister for Magic; he is improving things for our kind in Magical Britain. He has sent me to try and reach out to others on the continent in the hope of extending the hand of friendship."

"Friendship? From a wizard?" The man scoffed, cynical of such a message. "You are right, you are _very_ lucky to have such a friend. The rest of us have to accept that we are ostracised from the moment we receive the bite. And it will never change."

"It _is_ changing in Britain," Lupin insisted. "Slowly, but it is. So long as we take Wolfsbane and spend the nights of full moon in a secure location – the rest of the month we are allowed to live a full and normal life."

"Really?" He was still sceptical.

"I won't lie and say _everyone_ agrees with Minister Potter – in truth his is a minority opinion, but it is the one that counts these days. Paid work is still hard to come by for us but an increasing number of werewolves are now being employed in some capacity by the Ministry, which also helps them make sure they take the Wolfsbane and go to the secure houses."

"You are _very_ lucky that you can _afford_ the potion. Most of us cannot buy it here so cannot make ourselves safe. For three days I can have no family," he lamented, "as I must keep them safe and away from me."

"My Minister is offering the potion for free to anyone who wants it," Remus revealed. "He is willing to pay for it himself."

The Frenchman looked at him in disbelief. "And what does your Minister get out of this?"

"He gets an end to our problem," Lupin explained. "With Wolfsbane we're safe during our transformations – since we won't attack people, when we die there will be no more werewolves in Britain. He hopes that other countries will do the same and eradicate our disease that way, while also showing that, for the rest of the month, we can be useful, productive and – crucially – full members of magical society."

"This sounds too good to be true…" The man was interrupted as a door opened.

"Jacques! What are you doing?" A blonde woman called to him, then saw Remus. "Oh, you have a friend visiting? Well, invite him inside," she urged.

"My wife Michelle," he indicated to the woman. "We were friends as children and she was one of the only ones to stand by me after I was bitten." Two young children raced from the house and began hugging his legs; Remus could only watch with a trace of envy that, despite his struggles, this man had something that he himself could only dream of getting.

* * *

Remus found himself invited to dinner; the family were clearly doing their best to make ends meet but their meagre home was filled with all the warmth, love and chaos of the best of family life. Conversation was free but light with the children amusing and exasperating their parents in equal measure. Once they had been despatched to bed, discussions could turn to the more serious matter of why Remus was in France.

"I do have some friends among the 'community'," Jacques disclosed, making a face from a combination of revulsion at the term and the cheap wine he'd provided; it was the best they could afford but still an affront to their French sensibilities. "Like you, we want nothing more than to live our lives in peace, to work and to have families, but all of that is denied to us in the magical world. Michelle found herself having to choose between me and many of her friends and even her own life in the magical community." He took the blonde's hand. "She chose me; now outside of her family nobody talks to her at all," Jacques looked sorrowful at what she'd given up for him.

"It is a choice I would make again, as often as I had to," she insisted vehemently. "Our marriage and our children are worth all of the rest."

"I need to talk to them," the French werewolf told his British counterpart, "and perhaps we can do that tomorrow, but I think most would love to accept your Minister's generous offer. I certainly would."

"It would be a dream for me," his wife agreed, hugging her husband. "I worry so much when you have to leave us those nights. I know _why_ but the thought that you could stay in the house, or at least be somewhere that we _know_ you're safe and will come back to us…" she could barely continue as tears welled in her eyes.

"The thought of working and living in the magical world again instead of finding what life we can in the mundane world – that would be huge as well," her husband nodded; Michelle looked more sceptical.

"They turned their backs on you and on me. I don't know that I would want to rejoin such a society."

"If it was best for our children…" he countered; she shrugged her concession of the point.

Buoyed by the contact he had made, Remus finished his drink over lighter topics of conversation before leaving to find a hotel (he declined their kind offer of finding him a bed somewhere in their small home).

The little wine he'd drunk did nothing to impair his senses; he could smell the danger before he saw it. A group of three muscular men approached him a couple of streets from the house he'd just left; their eyes lit up as they saw the well-dressed (and therefore, presumably, wealthy) man in the neighbourhood. In none-too-polite tones they requested that he supply them with money and valuables, words backed up by tyre irons and knives.

Lupin sighed; he wasn't looking for a confrontation but had no intention of complying with their demands. He drew his wand from his pocket and, to their amazed bewilderment, fired three rapid stunners before intending to make his get-away. The pops of apparating wizards told him that this would not be the case. He slowly replaced his wand in his pocket as the squad leader approached him.

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Prague, Czech Republic_

"Our people are here," Oblansk arrived at 8 p.m., having been chosen personally by Emperor Karkaroff to oversee the operation. The Bulgarian was simmering with anger at his Czech counterpart, following the latter's demand that half the Bulgarian Veela population be relocated as a reward for his betrayal of the Slovak and Hungarian ministries. He knew better, though, than to go against the Emperor's direct instructions. Had he asked, Karkaroff would happily have told him that this humiliation, as he saw it, was a reminder of the continuous need for loyal and productive service to the Empire.

"I will open the floos in one hour," Svoboda promised. "The Ministries should be empty by then and our squads can hide out overnight to catch the Ministers unaware when they arrive in the morning."

"Yes, that is what we agreed," Oblansk sighed impatiently. "Is there any other security you can lift so they can secure the whole building overnight?"

"No, only the Ministers and their highest ranking people can do that. Short of imperiusing one of them it can't be done, but with the Ministers dead in their own offices it will be easy to take out the other high ranking officials and secure and shield that floor of the building before their Aurors can arrive."

"Then we declare the countries for the Empire and bring in more of our own troops to deal with any foolish enough to resist," Oblansk smiled.

 _And_ **I** _can enjoy running my own little Fiefdom and a few Veela concubines_ the Czech was looking forward to a bright future for himself.

The hour passed slowly; the two men sat in uncomfortable silence with Svoboda fielding the occasional glare from Oblansk. Out of politeness he offered the Bulgarian a drink, which was declined (privately Oblansk refused out of fear of it being laced with poison, even when the Czech himself took a glass). Finally 9 p.m. came and a handful of Czech Aurors filed into the room.

Oblansk frowned – not at the mistrust (as given half a chance he _would_ have double-crossed the Czech) but because the chance had gone. A pitched battle in the Czech Minister's office would doubtless result in casualties meaning that even if his forces won it would dilute them and reduce the chances of success the next day. This could quite literally prove fatal for the Bulgarian, to report back that the mission had failed – and why – would see the Emperor come down hard on him. He would obviously be held responsible and the consequences really did not bear thinking about. Finally the first group of Imperial warriors entered the room. Svoboda called the Slovak Ministry on the floo; with no response he whispered the emergency code and smiled as the flames turned a tell-tale green. The battalion walked through and confirmed that their destination was empty – and locked. The action was repeated with a second battalion being sent to Hungary before Svoboda closed the connection and locked down his floo.

"And now we wait for morning," he told Oblansk. He nodded and the two ministers, and Aurors, left for the evening.

 _Friday, 17_ _th_ _October 2003_

"One day," the Bulgarian promised silently, "I will have my revenge and take back my Veela. On that day I will see them roast you alive with their fireballs before I feed your flesh to the werewolves." Publically he contented himself with toasting the seamless execution of the plan; reports had come back confirming the total success of the plans. Kovács, the Hungarian Minister, and Horváth, the Slovak, were dead, along with their highest-ranking allies in the now collapsed governments of Hungary and Slovakia. The battalions were imposing martial law on the Ministry building while Emperor Karkaroff sent one of his friends to Budapest to head the new government. Svoboda, meanwhile, had despatched his deputy to Bratislava to oversee the 'unification' of that Ministry with that of the Czech Republic.

"I must return to Bulgaria," Oblansk stood, eager to leave before he gave in to the urge to attack his counterpart; his patience was tested further by the smirk and reply he received.

"Yes, you will have to begin preparations to have the Veela moved here."

"Of course," the Bulgarian growled; he swept from the office without another word, the Czech's grin bored into his back as he went.

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

"James," Lily popped her head around the door, "Ambassador Dubois is here to see you."

"Show him in," the Minister sighed; his wife returned a few moments later announcing the French Ambassador.

"M Dubois," James stood and offered his hand; the Frenchman shook it curtly. He glanced at the muggleborn witch and, with a reluctant nod, James encouraged his wife to leave the room.

"Minister, my government is extremely upset," the ambassador began formally. "You sent an envoy to some of our citizens without informing us. My Minister feels this is interference in our domestic affairs and, as such, not conducive to our on-going co-operative relations."

"I understand her viewpoint but felt it was necessary. I think werewolves, by their nature _and by what we wizards have done to them_ ," he emphasised, "have a unique advantage and could be an invaluable source of information to us. I intend to make full use of that and also look to deal with the problems and dangers of lycanthropy."

"Yes, your Mr Lupin explained your plans when he encountered our Aurors."

"What caused him to come across them?" James asked; he hadn't expected Remus to go anywhere near official channels.

"He cast spells in a mundane area," the Minister was told. "It was easy to establish that it was self-defence but still, we found out why he was there in the first place before, reluctantly, letting him go on his way." He wrinkled his nose in distaste at the undiplomatic message he had been instructed to deliver as he continued, "My Minister says that, unlike you, she does not wish to aggravate a neighbouring country."

James sighed; dealing with the French was always tricky, which was one of the reasons he'd tried to circumvent their government this time. "Very well. I will send my apologies to your Minister for not informing them of my intentions. I would also like to schedule a face-to-face meeting with her; I feel there will be much for us to discuss in the coming weeks and months."

"I will pass on your request," the ambassador nodded. He stood and the men shook hands. "For what it's worth," he told James in a low voice, "sometimes this 'shadow' diplomacy is the only way to get things done and making allies of a group of outcasts would be a masterstroke." He grinned. "But if anyone asks, I will deny that I ever said any of that."

 _Imps Stadium,_

 _Ilkley Moor, West Yorkshire, United Kingdom,_

 _Saturday, 18_ _th_ _October 2003_

Neville groaned along with the rest of the home fans as another goal slipped through the young keeper's outstretched fingers; only their knowledge of the ancient curse stayed their hands from ripping off their hats in frustration and (in many cases) covering their eyes with them to avoid having to witness the on-field carnage. The Auror glanced nervously at the scoreboard, now reading 200-60 in favour of the visiting Kirkstall Kappas before scanning the sky looking for his girl.

"Come on Jen…" he urged quietly; the seeker in question seemed to be lapping the field fairly aimlessly as the snitch was nowhere to be seen. Cheers turned his attention back to the main action as the Ilkley chasers were celebrating pulling a goal back, though it was only moments later that the 140 point lead was restored as the Kappas fired past the novice keeper.

"I thought the Imps keeper was a lot better than this," the gentleman next to Neville observed.

"Their first-choice keeper was injured in training this week," he explained, causing the chap to take a close look through his omnioculars.

"Hmm, you're right I don't recognise him. I was told their reserve was at least adequate though."

"Oh," Neville blushed a little at the story he was about to share. "Their usual reserve um… got arrested last week." His neighbour's questioning look urged him to continue. "Yeah, he pulled his wand on an Auror in a muggle London pub."

"You're kidding me."

"No," Neville shook his head. "I was the Auror he threatened. He's still in custody and apparently the notice that he's been sacked is waiting for him when he gets let out."

The man sighed. "That's a shame. We were hoping I'd find someone promising to sign. Oh, David Watson, Appleby Arrows scout," he offered his hand.

"Neville Longbottom, Senior Auror."

"Longbottom? Any relation to the Deputy Minister?" Watson half-joked.

"He's my dad," Neville confirmed, causing the scout to bite on his lip.

"And you're a fan of the Imps?" he fished gently.

"Sort of," he confirmed. "They're pretty much my local team, although Kirkstall's not exactly far away either, but I'm here to support their captain really; she's a friend of mine." With that he returned his gaze to the sky, where Jen had abandoned her laps and seemed to have seen the snitch as she dropped into a dive, the Kirkstall seeker a few yards behind her.

Some of the crowd had seen this; others groaned again as the Kappas extended their lead to 150 points. Neville, though, was on his feet cheering as the Imps' seeker pulled out of her dive, hand clenched around the small golden snitch. He lowered his omnioculars and looked at the scoreboard, now reporting the result: 220-220 and sighed.

"Well, it's better than losing," he reasoned. Watson nodded, scribbled a few more notes before bidding the Auror good day and heading for the exit. Neville made his way to the small clubhouseto wait for Jen, and her teammates, to shower and change after their game while the rest of the audience filed out, discussing what they'd just witnessed as they did.

* * *

Neville stood nursing his butterbeer as he chatted with the coach. Finally the players started to arrive; he waved at Jen as he saw her, which caused the coach to chuckle.

"I'll leave you two to it," he smiled and went to speak to his opposite number while the Imps' captain crossed the bar room and wrapped herself around the Auror.

"Great catch," Neville told her once his lips were again unoccupied.

"Thanks, a shame it didn't mean we won; we could have used the points," she lamented.

"To say you were playing with an emergency keeper you did ok, at least you didn't lose," he countered philosophically. "Can I get you a drink?" he offered; when she nodded he quickly received two more butterbeers and the young couple spent a pleasant hour chatting about the game, her catch and life in general, socialising with her team mates and the opposition when necessary.

"Do you want to do anything tonight?" Neville asked as the players began to disperse. "If you're tired after the game and don't want to go out we don't have to."

She pulled him into a hug. "I think a quiet evening in front of the TV and getting to bed early would be a good thing tonight. Do you agree?" she asked huskily.

Neville had become a fan of television after spending large chunks of his childhood at the Potters' home (at his behest his parents had become one of the only Pureblood families to make this concession to the technology of the muggle world); he was very much sold on both parts of his girlfriend's suggestion and they quickly headed for her home.

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location unknown,_

 _Sunday, 19_ _th_ _October 2003_

"Hello?" Harry looked in on one of the rooms in what he'd learnt was the 'commercial district' of the castle. The Veela in the room looked in his direction and smiled.

"What can I do for you, Emissary?"

"My reputation precedes me," he joked, entering the room.

"Not really; you are the only man in the castle."

"I never thought of it that way," he admitted with a grin. "Anyway, I was told that you were the person to see about having my hair cut," he ran a hand through the untidy, black mess.

"Take a seat," she replied with a nod, gesturing to a chair.

* * *

"I've done my best," she told him a little while later, "but I cannot make it lie flat; I have never had this problem before. Is it normal for wizards?"

"It's a Potter thing," he explained with a chuckle. "I get my hair from my dad."

She smiled knowingly. "My daughter looks just like I did at her age."

"You have a daughter?" He was a little surprised, not only did he think the woman didn't look old enough to have a child but, now that he thought about it, he also hadn't seen anybody younger than Gabrielle during his stay in the castle.

"Yes, she will be with her friends in the nursery," she replied as if it was obvious.

Harry gave a small nod before indulging in a little small talk about the girl; the proud mother was happy to oblige.

"Hello Emissary," Harry turned to see Gabrielle approaching him. "I was told you had come here."

"It never really occurred to me that there would be children here," he looked out over the room below them. "I suppose now that I think about it they _have_ to come from somewhere," he added with a chuckle. "Where are their fathers?" He asked as the thought struck him.

"The villages by the lake," the young girl replied with a shrug, as if it were obvious.

"I visited some of them," Harry commented thoughtfully, "and I remember seeing that there were wizards but no witches."

"Every year, Veela who want a child go on a certain night to one of the villages; all memory of the event is erased from the wizard's mind afterwards. If they have a boy, he is left for the village to raise. The girls we keep and our society raises them as you see here," she gestured to the vista before them. She saw the look of incredulity on Harry's face.

"That's…" he began, but she added,

"Do not judge us too harshly on this, Emissary, it has been this way for longer than any here can remember. It is what we are taught from an early age we must do to keep separate but keep our race going. You are the first man to live among us in centuries; I do not think you appreciate how momentous that makes the Queen's decision to receive you. It may also explain why they chose to attack you and try to get rid of you – your presence here represents the potential for a huge change to our way of life. I do not know how many are ready for that but the vast majority accept it because you are here by the Queen's word."

"Which is why she could call their actions treason; attacking someone who is here as almost a personal guest to her." Harry nodded in understanding.

"Exactly, but I do not think she will – because you have asked her not to. This could prove to be a huge moment and turning point for us as a society. I hope that we are all ready for it if it is." The young Veela walked away, leaving Harry alone in his thoughts.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown,_

 _Monday, 20_ _th_ _October 2003_

"The court is now in session," the oldest Veela Harry had ever seen declared as she swept majestically and forcefully into the room in front of the queen. To say she was so much older she was still very pretty to his eyes, despite looking like she might be close to the age of Neville's grandmother.

"Who is she?" Harry whispered to Gabrielle, who was next to him in the public gallery and looking unusually resplendent in robes of gold, which surprised him as he had never seen her wearing other than the pale blue that most of the non-courtiers wore; the sound of people returning to their seats after rising to greet the duo helped mask his words.

"That is Serene, our elder statesman," she returned in an equally low voice. "Officially it is mostly a ceremonial position, which is why you have not seen her in the discussions, but she presides over serious cases like this and, because she has amassed great experience and wisdom, the Queen often calls on her for advice; you can be certain that she has discussed your mission with her."

"Is that a good thing or not?"

"If she was totally opposed then I'm not sure you would still be here," Gabbi replied.

Harry mulled this over for a moment before asking another question. "How old is she?"

"Ninety-four."

Harry swallowed as he processed this; this Veela _was_ older than Neville's grandmother, and appreciably so, but looked at least a few years younger than Augusta. The queen stood, followed by the rest of the room rising to their feet as well, and she began to speak into total and respectful silence.

"We are here today to hear the case against a group of our own courtiers. They are charged with assaulting a visiting dignitary, a guest of our nation, and with attempting to prevent the signing of a treaty between ourselves and a potentially friendly nation."

Gabrielle let out a long, relieved breath. "She did not charge them with treason," the girl whispered; only Harry was able to hear her.

With the charges having been read out, the facts of the case were revealed. Danielle, who had begun the proceedings sat on Harry's other side (and who seemed surprised to see Gabrielle sat with him), was called upon to give her eye-witness account of the ambush (Gabbi explained to Harry that her word, as a Veela and courtier, would carry more weight in the court than his, a wizard's, would). He looked over at Marie and her fellow defendants; while they looked concerned at the evidence mounting against them, all looked unrepentant about their actions.

Finally her testimony was complete and, as she was the chief witness, this ended the presentation of the case against them; now the Veela on trial had their turn to speak. Marie stood and addressed the court on their behalf.

"Your Majesty, honoured court, my fellow Veela," her eyes then lingered insolently on Harry before she turned back to the monarch without verbally acknowledging the emissary, "what we did, what we _attempted_ ," she added perhaps in the hope that pointing out that it failed would help mitigate things, "we did for our society. We are all taught from birth about wizards and the dangers they pose to us, our society, our way of life – _our very lives in fact_ ," she stressed. She turned to Harry and continued, "By arriving at this court, this wizard brought with him the risk of our court coming to the attention of the wider magical world and bringing about the pollution of our society. We need only look at how our kind are treated where we live alongside others to see how bad things would become. Therefore, we acted for the greater good of _all_ Veela here, to keep us _all_ safe. _He_ puts us all in danger," she pointed at the British diplomat, " _we_ tried to get rid of that threat."

Harry bit down an inappropriate grin as memories of watching cartoons on TV in his childhood came to mind – _and we would have gotten away with it if it wasn't for that meddling wizard and his charmed glasses_ he imagined her adding bitterly. Instead, she finished by claiming that Harry's presence was _already_ having the effect she foresaw and feared; Veela was being pitted against Veela, she gestured to the gathering before bowing to the monarch and reclaiming her seat to muted congratulations from her co-accused.

The Queen frowned at her for a while. She then rose, as did everyone else, and addressed the prisoners in a cold voice. "The Emissary is here at our invitation; he found us and wished to make contact. His requests have been reasonable and we have slowly built trust and worked towards an agreement that is acceptable to both his country and ours. By attacking him you threatened all of that and could have plunged us into a war with his land. You show no remorse for your acts or the potential consequences of them – indeed you try to blame the consequences of your actions on your intended victim! _You_ are the ones who have set us against one another, not him. Taking all this into account our decision is clear: you are guilty as charged."

Marie held the queen's gaze as she sat again; the others bowed their heads fearfully as they were convicted. "Does anybody wish to comment before sentence is passed?" the monarch asked.

Harry didn't need Gabrielle's nudge; he remained standing while others copied the queen in taking their seats and he spoke into the silence.

"Your Majesty," the Queen turned to him, as did almost everybody else, "as the intended victim of this act I stand here today to appeal to you for them to receive clemency." A low mumble rippled around the room and a few gasps were also heard as he made his request; most had assumed he had stood to demand they be harshly dealt with (given what they "knew" of wizards and their attitude towards Veela; some had also expected him to demand that they become his personal play-things as restitution). "I understand that my presence here and our talks are changing your society and that some people are not ready for that; that would certainly be true if Veela were visiting Britain with the intention of establishing relations, some would oppose with everything they have. As such I ask that their being motivated by concern for their society and their way of life be taken into consideration when you pass sentence upon them."

"Your request is recognised," the Queen told him, "though given the severity of the crimes, and the fact that their actions could have imperilled our nation or even started a war between our nation and yours, their sentence must be severe," she finished sorrowfully; she then turned to the defendants. "And it _is_. Each of you will spend the next 20 years working in the mines." The women gasped, even Marie swayed as her knees struggled to support her. "At the end of this period you will be exiled to one of our enclaves for the remainder of your lives. So shall it be." She looked to her guards. "Remove them," she ordered before standing and leading the remainder of her entourage from the room. The shocked and, in some cases, weeping Veela were escorted back to the cells to be prepared for transport to the mines.

Harry looked at Gabrielle as the spectators began to dissipate. "It is a _very_ harsh sentence," she confirmed, "despite your appeal the Queen felt she had no choice but to make an example of them."

"Emissary," a courtier Harry had recognised from the talks called; turning to her he recalled that she had seemed rather sceptical of his approach or of any contact between Britain and the Veela. "Your appeal was… unexpected. I had thought you would be like the wizards we are warned about but it seems I may have been wrong. Your admission that not all would be as receptive as you is also to be applauded. With you as an example of the forward-thinking nature of your country, I would now look favourably on a treaty with your people."

The courtiers who had lingered looked surprised to be hearing this; Harry had hoped, of course, that this would happen but was startled to see his appeal bear fruit immediately.

"And with that the deal is done," Danielle declared happily at his side, keeping her voice low. "She is powerful within the court and her opinion would sway many."

"She leads one of the factions?" Harry asked.

"You could say that; there are certainly many who listen to her. With her onside we will be ready to complete the deal in a matter of days, maybe sooner." She glanced over at Gabrielle before hesitantly kissing him on the cheek, grinning as a blush flew up his face (and choosing to ignore the frown on Gabrielle's face). "Congratulations," she told him.

Harry opened his arms a little; Danielle smiled and wrapped him in a hug. "It's been a long road," he told her, "but it will all be worth it if the deal is done." He let her go before turning to Gabrielle, who still hovered awkwardly; he hugged her too. "Thank you," he told her, "for everything you have done. Bust especially for advising me to speak on their behalf; it has proved to be very helpful. And may I say," he added quietly, "you look especially lovely today in those robes."

"My pleasure – and thank you," she mumbled before making her excuses and leaving the room; Danielle watched her go thoughtfully.

"We should celebrate," the Veela told him. "It is lunch time, let us go and eat." Lacing her fingers in his, she led him to the Dining Hall.

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

"James, the French Minister is here," Lily warned her husband.

The Minister sighed heavily before getting his game face in place. "Show her in, please, Lil."

"Mme Minister," he stood and offered his hand. With a show of reluctance the Frenchwoman took it.

"M Potter, I must protest in the _strongest_ terms your interference in our domestic affairs," she began.

"Madame," James began cautiously, "I understand your concerns but I disagree that they are _wholly_ domestic affairs for France. Werewolves, like anybody else, do not necessarily _have_ to respect national borders. We are taking steps to reduce the danger from werewolves, steps that would wipe out their species in one generation while simultaneously allowing those werewolves who wish to contribute to society to do so." He decided to turn the tables on his guest. "I must say I am very disappointed that a friendly government is not supporting our efforts to bring about an end to the problem once and for all."

The French Minister was taken aback by his counter-attack; she had expected an apology and the opportunity to wrangle some concessions from James, or at least bank some political capital for a future date. Instead she found herself on the ropes; narrowing her eyes she came out swinging.

"I can eradicate the problem far more quickly, by rounding them up and removing their heads! Maybe I should start with the intruder we apprehended, throwing spells around in a muggle area."

James drew upon all his years of political training to keep his cool while one of his closest friends was threatened. "Actions like that, Minister," he spoke slowly as he tried to calm down, "will quickly drive them underground, or across a national border. Sending them further into the margins of society and with more reason to hate and attack that society. Your policies would make the problem _worse_ , _ours_ are demonstrably improving things; there has not been a single werewolf attack in Britain in the last year. Can France claim that?"

She glowered at him for a few moments; James held her gaze before, having decided he'd made his point, trying to ratchet down the hostility a little.

"Minister, I apologise for sending my envoy without informing you. I should have done you that honour at least." She gave a curt nod. "I will _not_ apologise, however, for the actions I took. With the situation in Eastern Europe being as it is, I feel we will need all the allies we can, _especially_ allies who may prove to be an excellent source of intelligence to us."

"Then maybe you should try not to alienate your _existing_ allies while you go on your crusade for new ones," she countered stiffly. She then leaned forward. "First the Veela, now the werewolves. How far do you plan to go with your creature collection, Minister?"

The British Minister bit his tongue for a moment; her tone and attitude were far from helpful. "As far as I have to to ensure the safety of this country, Minister. I _hope_ to have you, and other European countries, on board with this plan so we can have a broad coalition opposed to this fledgling Empire and to stop it from expanding too far. For now I am speaking to the enemy of my enemy, at least potentially. I hope, in time, to be speaking to them as friends."

"I think your hopes will be unfounded, M Potter but I will wish you luck with your endeavours. However, I must ask that you not launch such missions in France without informing us in the future. We would continue to consider them as… unhelpful. We _did_ release your M Lupin, but the next one?" She shrugged. "Who can say?"

"Your objections are noted, Minister." James rose, feeling the meeting had come to an end; he was certain the nothing positive would come from continued talks today anyway. "I remain hopeful, though, that in time France will come to support our measures in regards to werewolves." He opted for one parting shot. "I would be happy to share the information with you showing how good it has been for our society to have them as safe and constructive members of our community."

"That will not be necessary today," she retorted; another tense handshake took place between the two leaders before the Frenchwoman prepared to floo back to her own Ministry. "There _is_ one more thing, Mme Minister," he called as she made to step into the fire; the Frenchwoman looked back at him. "If European societies drive werewolves to the Empire, how long before they are weaponised?" She gave him a questioning look. "What if the Emperor promises to protect them, stations them close to the borders to sneak across at full moon and attack as many people as they can?" Her look turned to one of horror at the prospect. "Now you see why I want these people to not be a threat?" She left with a curt nod; James hoped that she would think about the situation once back in France.

"How did it go?" Lily asked, returning to the room after their guest had left.

"Oh, about as well as you'd expect."

"That badly?" she grinned.

"Pretty much," he agreed.

"Come on," she took his hand and pulled him to her. "Take your wife out for lunch; that will make you feel better."

As she was leading him out of the office he paused for a second. "How does that work then?"

"It makes your wife happy, dear. Do I have to explain how a happy wife makes your life better?"

"We have three kids," he chuckled, "I don't think you need to explain that."

She laughed and slapped his arm playfully.

 _Bourdeaux, France_

"Bonjour, Remus." Jacques greeted his fellow werewolf jovially. "I trust the day finds you well?"

"Not too bad, my friend," Lupin smiled. "I could have done without garnering the interest of your Aurors over the weekend but these things will happen."

" _Vraiment_? What happened?"

"Some of your neighbours thought I was the sort of person they could rob," he explained. "I didn't want to hurt them so I just stunned them. The Aurors appeared moments later, alerted by my use of magic in a muggle area."

"Your clothing saw you stand out. I'm afraid we cannot afford to live in a better area," Jacques said sorrowfully.

"Neither could I before James became Minister," Remus consoled the man. "He, and his predecessor to a degree, helped me out no end. I have a far better standard of living than many of our peers." He placed a hand on the Frenchman's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "I tell you, though, that I would give it _all_ up for what you have – a loving, loyal wife and two wonderful children."

"I am blessed, and through them I am richer than others," he agreed. "Now come, I have people for you to meet." He took Remus's arm and they apparated away.

 _Connemara,_ _14-18 Cours Albret_

"This is Alain," Jacques introduced yet another person to the Englishman.

"Hello," Lupin shook his hand; he glanced over at the landlord, who seemed delighted to see his establishment so full on a Monday evening.

"Has Jacques said anything to you about why I'm here?" Remus asked the assembly once they'd all ordered something.

"He gave us a story we can scarcely believe," Alain answered. "Your country offering for free the potion that means we can safely stay around people at full moon? That we do not have to hide and keep separate for risk of infecting more people?"

"What is in it for him?" another werewolf, Marie-Anne, a woman scarcely older than himself, asked.

Remus explained James's vision of making werewolves accepted and useful members of society and also eradicating the disease through there being no further infections; most there nodded their agreement.

"Everyone in this room will agree with that. We _all_ want nothing more than to live as normal a life as we can with our affliction," Alain said, "however I must warn you that not all of our kind think that way, which is one reason that some are not here."

"We have some like that too," Remus assured him. "Some actually seek out wizards and witches, one even targets children specifically," he added bitterly, thinking on the werewolf who had infected _him_ , "so despite James's efforts the plan is not universally accepted. It _has_ meant that our Aurors have been able to focus their efforts on these 'rogue' werewolves and on securing them during full moon."

"I'm sure _our_ Aurors would just kill any they met on sight," Jacques complained bitterly.

"For some that may be the best option – if all they seek is biting more people and perpetuating that we are uncontrollable beasts," Lupin conceded. While this admission was not a popular thing to say aloud, few gathered there could counter that it may be a "greater good" solution. "In fact, there are some within the Ministry who believe they should do just that to any who do not take Wolfsbane."

"Well you can tell your Minister that most of us would gladly accept his offer," Jacques spoke for them all at the end of the meal.

"Whether your government agrees is another matter," Remus observed morosely. Again, few were able to dispute this but Lupin did, at least, believe he'd accomplished his mission - making some allies among French werewolves.

 _Malfoy Manor,_

 _Swindon, Wiltshire_

"Ah Draco," Lucius Malfoy eyed his son as the latter entered his study. "It's time to speak to the weasel twins again," he told him smoothly but sternly. "I have another meeting with our Eastern friends in the next few days and I _need_ something to give them. You will find the weasels and get me my sample from them."

"I won't let you down, father," he promised.

"Make sure that you don't," the senior Malfoy threatened before dismissing him. As Draco departed he turned to Regulus Black, with whom he was sharing an exquisite bottle of Firewhiskey (Draco was most put out not to have been offered a glass by his father). "How are the numbers?"

"At the moment we don't have enough," Black disclosed. "We obviously have our allies onside but many of the neutrals and moderates, while indifferent to Potter's plans and not overly confident in him, have not committed to voting to oust him."

"We need to persuade them then," Malfoy commented. "What will it take?"

"I suspect that they will come onboard when he signs his treaty with the half-breeds; many are opposed to that and I'm sure they would welcome the opportunity to stop it from happening; depending on the details of it we could _easily_ have our majority, particularly if some of the things Wormtail claimed are in there prove accurate."

"We've waited this long; a little longer is ok. On top of the issues with the French it may well be death by a thousand cutting curses rather than one killing curse that ends Potter's Ministry. I'll make sure we keep the Empire happy until we're ready to take our rightful place in its ranks."

Regulus took a sip of his drink to hide his frown; this last part of the plan was certainly _not_ one that he was completely sold on.

 _Dungeons,_

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

"Why did he say what he did?" one of Marie's co-conspirators asked the room. "Why would a _wizard_ want us to live?"

"That is not all he did," the guard assigned to deliver their meal noted in bored tones.

"What do you mean?" the woman demanded; the guard pushed herself away from the wall and approached her.

"You mean you really don't know? The Emissary approached the Queen after your attack and spoke on your behalf privately. But for him you could have faced a charge of treason and this would be your last night alive."

"So we are still alive, because of a _wizard_?" Marie spat; the guard nodded.

"Do you _still_ think him a threat to your way of life?" she challenged with a smirk. Having checked that everything was fine and the doors were locked, she left the Dungeons, locking the heavy door behind her and leaving the prisoners to their meals – and their thoughts.

After spending a wonderful day getting to know each other outside of the negotiation chamber, Harry and Danielle arranged to meet for dinner. He'd headed back to his room and had a leisurely bath before returning to the Dining Room where he met her. He was a little surprised when they were joined by a number of other courtiers, all of whom thanked him for speaking out on behalf of his assailants.

"It was the right thing to do," he replied modestly, "even if it had not swayed one voice in our favour I would still have had no regrets. I do not believe anybody should be murdered by the state and, from my upbringing, that's what I think execution is."

The Veela looked at one another; this argument was not prevalent in their society (in much the same way that it remained a minority view in Magical Britain and the wider magical world). "That is a laudable view," Danielle scratched her chin thoughtfully, "but surely you would agree that sometimes and for some crimes, the ultimate penalty must be paid."

"We will have to disagree," he shook his head. "I don't think it has _any_ place in a civilised society. That's just who I am," he shrugged.

"Well it is not something I will fight you over so yes, we will disagree privately," she replied, pushing away her empty dessert plate. "Are you finished?" He nodded, copying her action in pushing his plate away; they disappeared from view. "Then let us go," she flashed a knowing smile at the other women as she took Harry's hand and led him ultimately to her room. Once inside, she gently pushed him against the closed door and kissed him passionately.

Danielle felt her Veela allure flare as she kissed the young Briton; she was surprised that he didn't seem to be affected at all by it, expecting him to at least go a little weak at the knees. Instead he began to take charge, pulling at the knot at the back of her neck, loosening the top of her robes before sliding his hands underneath it and beginning to raise the garment. Danielle lifted her arms and he pulled off her top, dropping it by their feet before repeating the actions on her skirt, leaving her naked except for her boots, which she quickly slipped off before pulling Harry over to her bed. She took a seat and began to help Harry out of his clothes.

As he shed his robes the most extraordinary feeling came over him; his knees gave way completely and he had to place the palms of his hands on the bed to support his weight, an action that left him staring at Danielle's nude body with one hand either side of her.

"Are you ok, 'Arry?" she asked in concern.

"Huh?" he asked stupidly; she put a finger under his chin, forcing his eyes to meet hers.

"I asked if you were alright."

"Oh, uh… I don't know. Something just…" he shook his head, "came over me, some sort of super-powerful charm that left me…" he reddened, "left me thinking only of you."

She chuckled. "That would be my allure." She looked thoughtfully at him. "I felt it go when we began to kiss but did not release any more of it since then, so why it should suddenly affect you…"

"My robes," he cried suddenly. "The shield charm woven into them; it must have acted to deflect the allure of any of the Veela in the castle – and I've not really been around anyone without wearing them before now." He closed his eyes and thought back to Gabrielle's massage while he was in the bath; he'd felt nothing then but had been so exhausted that his fatigue must have blocked out her allure. Either that or…

"How old is a Veela when they first develop their allure?" he asked.

"It usually manifests at around twelve," Danielle answered, "though of course with no men around we don't _really_ know these days. Those living in our exclaves say twelve though."

Harry palmed his glasses. "I wonder if…" he removed them; he felt no different in terms of his reaction to Danielle's allure – only now he couldn't see her. "Hmm, my glasses are shielded as well. Maybe the charm on them isn't powerful enough to deflect the allure."

"Or maybe it isn't your head that it affects the most," Danielle suggested mischievously. "Now, are you still in the mood to make love to me?" she purred.

"Most definitely," he smiled, beginning to embrace the allure that he could now feel radiating off her.

"Let's make sure," she grinned wickedly before closing her eyes and bleeding out more of her power. Opening them she saw Harry looking rather slack-jawed at her; she took his hands in hers and guided him onto her bed, lying him down next to her. She slipped a hand between his legs, feeling his hardness before straddling the wizard and guiding him inside of her then swooping down and kissing him.

The spent couple lay on Danielle's bed sharing tender kisses; she had been surprised by his stamina and the fact that she hadn't needed to use any more bursts of her allure to aid his recovery time. For his part, it was something else that surprised Harry.

"I'm impressed," he commented, smiling at his lover, "at how… skilled you are. You know, with no men here it's not like you get a lot of er… practice," he blushed as he got the horrible feeling that he was rapidly digging his own grave; he was relieved when she threw back her head and gave a musical laugh.

"Ah, Emissary, did you not know? Veela are women of pleasure. The act of sex comes _extremely_ naturally to all of us." She reached down and took his hardening member in her hand again. " _Extremely_ naturally," she repeated in a seductive whisper.

Harry groaned; again he wondered if this night would be the death of him, though this time he thought it might at least be a rather pleasant death.

"You know I expect nothing from you," she told him later. "After tonight, as wonderful as it has been to celebrate with you, I do not expect you to make this a habit."

"You don't want to?" he was a little surprised and disappointed.

"Once the deal is signed you will probably not be here much longer. Even if you are? Well, there are _many_ of us here and you owe me nothing."

He cocked his head in thought; she really had given him his dream scenario – no-strings sex and carte blanche to look for another girl whenever he wanted to. "Thank you," he said, kissing her, "though I certainly wouldn't object to a repeat."

 _No,_ Danielle thought, _and nor would I, though I think there are some who_ would.

 _Tuesday, 21_ _st_ _October 2003_

"Danielle? Danielle?" The voice and the pounding knock on the door roused the bed's two occupants. The Veela rose and strode nude to the door, opening it a crack to see what the commotion was.

"What has happened?" she asked blearily.

"Marie is dead; she took her own life in the cells overnight."

Danielle gasped and put a hand over her heart; she had known the other Veela quite well from their time in the court together and, while they were never _friends_ , it was still a shock to learn of her suicide.

"The Queen wishes to address the court at nine o'clock; she has made a decision about the treaty with the British."

"Does she wish to see the Emissary?"

"Yes, the court will receive him at ten. I am going to inform him next."

Danielle somehow resisted the urge to look over at her bed. "I will pass the message on to him," she said evenly. "We had made plans to breakfast together this morning," she elaborated in the hope of averting any awkward questions.

"Very well," the other girl departed with a nod and Danielle closed the door, leaning against it.

"Did she say that Marie killed herself?" Harry asked, slightly incredulous and thinking he must still be half-asleep and have misheard; he also rued the fact that the news spoiled his opportunity to appraise the beautiful form of the Veela stood before him.

"So it appears," the shaken blonde nodded. "Come, we should dress and go to breakfast as it looks like we will have a busy morning ahead of us."

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading; I hope you enjoyed it**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"I will see you later, Emissary," Danielle told Harry as he walked her to the conference room. He nodded, knowing that this meeting was for courtiers only and turned to head back to his room for an hour or so. She caught his arm and pulled him to herself, wrapping him in a hug and giving him a gentle kiss on the lips. "Just because I expect nothing from you does not mean I will not take opportunities that present themselves," she whispered seductively before entering the room. Harry walked back to his own with a huge grin on his face.

"Did you have a pleasant evening, Emissary?" He heard Gabrielle's voice as he approached his quarters and turned to the girl; she was dressed, once again, in the light blue robes of the non-courtier residents rather than the gold she'd worn the day before.

"I did, thank you," his smile grew as he thought back on the night he and Danielle had shared. "I was kept _thoroughly_ entertained."

"I am sure," the girl muttered under her breath before forcing her face into a smile. "Is there anything I can help you with today?"

"No, thank you Gabbi," he replied. "I have a meeting with the Queen in about an hour. Until then I will retire to my room."

"As you wish," she nodded and headed down the corridor, turning back to watch him enter his room with a wistful look on her face.

 _Conference Room_

"As you now know," the Queen spoke to the silent room, "Marie hanged herself last night." A sombre nod rippled through their ranks. "She was found, this morning, by Anne-Louise," she gestured to the guard stood stoically just inside the door, trying not to show how overwhelmed and intimidated she was to be in the presence of the most influential members of her race, "when she brought them breakfast and prepared for their travel to the mines. I will ask her to explain what happened," and the monarch gestured to the nervous girl. She swallowed and blotted her hands on her skirt before shuffling forward to the area gestured to by her ruler.

"I entered the dungeons at 6 a.m.," she began, head lowered to avoid the myriad gazes that were focussed on her, "with food for the prisoners. I heard what sounded like crying and when I looked I could see Marie hanging there. I opened the cell and cut her down but she was already cold. The healer, when I took her, said she had been dead for several hours. This ties in with what the others said; she made the decision shortly after the guard left last evening and did it then."

"How did she do it?" Danielle asked, breaking the pained silence that had engulfed the room. "Surely anything she could use had been removed from the prisoners?"

"It was," the guard nodded, finding herself able to look the one Veela in the eye and ignore the presence of the others for now, "she used her own clothing, specifically the top of her robes, to tie to the top of the bars and then tie the rest around her neck."

" _Why_ did she do it?" Another Veela called.

"Was she remorseful over her actions?" a third speculated.

Shyness returned to Anne-Louise as she was reminded of the esteemed company she was keeping. "No," she shook her head sombrely, "according to the others they were told that the Emissary had requested they be treated leniently," she threw the Queen a quick glance; her nod confirmed this, "and Marie believed that meant she would owe him a life debt. She said that she refused to live in a world where she would owe such a debt to a wizard."

The room was shocked into silence by this disclosure. The Queen, who had already learnt all this from her guard, was next to speak. "Thank you, Anne-Louise. You should all know, we attach _no_ blame to the Emissary for this incident. But for his request they could, and _would_ , have faced charges of treason; by now they would _all_ be dead." She stood and turned to the courtiers who rushed to their feet in response. "This is _not_ the doing of the Emissary," she repeated vehemently; many of the courtiers nodded, even if a few seemed to do so hesitantly.

She saw Danielle and many of the others nodding their agreement, though one or two looked sceptical. "Your Majesty," Danielle asked, "what has happened to the others?"

The Queen turned to Anne-Louise. "As per Her Majesty's orders, they were escorted to the mines this morning; there they will remain for the next twenty years before going into exile."

The Queen thanked her again and dismissed her; Anne-Louise bowed out of the room. "To the next order of business – the proposed treaty with Britain. Do any objections remain to our signing it?" Her eyes swept the court; valid objections had been raised, discussed and addressed in the past and, while she knew some remained outright hostile and would never support the signing, they did so ideologically rather than objecting to the specifics of it; it was the waverers, instead, that she had sought to placate, those with valid concerns that they had tried to overcome. With the question phrased the way it was, it was clear that objections would not be overly welcome.

"Your Majesty," the Veela who had spoken to Harry after the trial called out; the Queen nodded to her, encouraging her to speak, all waited on her words, knowing the misgivings she had voiced over the treaty. "The Emissary's words and actions yesterday have erased my concerns; I believe he portrays a very positive image of his country, something he has claimed since he arrived and has now proven to my satisfaction. As such I look favourably on the signing of the treaty and allying ourselves with them against this new threat he, and our sisters in the eastern exclaves, have alluded to."

Danielle let out a breath she didn't realise she'd held; the deal, she felt, was done. This was confirmed when no fresh objections were raised.

"Then the Emissary shall be informed. Have him brought to the offices in twenty minutes," she ordered before turning and leaving the room.

"I will let him know," Danielle offered; the others were happy to let her and the courtiers filed out of the room.

 _Royal Office_

Harry was again shown to the room where he'd met the Queen to intercede for his would-be assailants; he was shaking slightly as Danielle had reluctantly told him, in response to his question, the reason for the Veela's suicide.

"Your Majesty," he began as he found himself in her presence, alone but for one of her ever-present Royal Guards, "I am so sorry for the death of your courtier. I didn't realise my request would make her…"

"Emissary," the Monarch cut sharply across him, silencing him, "you did not _make_ her do anything. You did not break into the Dungeons, tie her clothing around her neck and hang her from the top of her cell." Harry winced as the grizzly details were revealed to him. "She made her choices," the Queen continued. "You are here now because the court has agreed – we _will_ sign a treaty with you."

Harry's brain was reeling; Danielle had said nothing about this when she'd been to find him and he'd feared that the deal was off and he would be ordered to leave the enclave. Instead he'd completed his mission! His first solo mission and it had been a total success!

"That is wonderful news, Your Majesty. If the treaty is to be signed then may I use your floo to bring our Minister over for the signing ceremony?"

"Of course, that would be the best thing to do," she agreed. "You may use the one in this office. It will be set up to receive guests by lunchtime."

He looked at her; as usual she wore just the ermine-type robe around her, tied at the front of her neck.

"Uh, your Majesty," he began, trying to make his voice tactful and diplomatic, "may I respectfully recommend that you uh… dress differently for the meeting with the Minister?"

The Queen cast him a questioning look so he elaborated. "While it may be a symbol of your stature and a tradition for your nation I feel it would make our Minister… uncomfortable. It would also doubtless upset his assistant," he added, desperately trying to suppress a smirk at the thought of Lily's reaction to seeing her greet James while wearing so little.

"Really?" The monarch was unconcerned about upsetting a mere assistant.

"Well, more like anger really," he admitted awkwardly.

"Anger, you say?" she was surprised that it would evoke that level of reaction in someone so junior. "And who is this assistant?"

"My mother," Harry revealed with a grin. "She may not have the ability to transform the way the Veela can but she can certainly get angry and inflict serious damage when she does so. Perhaps even with some fireballs of her own," he finished, causing the queen to laugh.

"You sound like you have a lot of experience of this?" the monarch pried, now smiling at him.

"Maybe a little," he conceded uncomfortably.

"Then I shall be sure not to anger your mother," she promised with a most unregal grin as she lapsed out of the stilted, formal language she typically used. "After all," she added mischievously, "it sounds like these stories would be fun to hear and if the meeting goes well I'm sure I could persuade her to share some of them."

Harry bit his lip; he didn't expect his mother to make the trip so he hoped that there would be no danger of the stories of his youth being told but there was no need to break that news to the queen, though he _was_ sure that his father meeting a beautiful and practically naked Head of State would lead to her racing through the floo to have words, no matter how big a diplomatic incident it would cause.

"In the meantime," he asked, eager to change the subject, "could I use the floo already available to inform my Minister of the good news?"

"Of course," she nodded. "Go and speak to your father. It will give him a chance to prepare for the ceremony this afternoon, if he is free then."

* * *

"British Ministry of Magic; Minister's Office!" Harry called, having hurried to the floo; the connection opened and he placed his head in the green flames.

"Hi dad," he greeted James, who started a little as his son's head appeared.

"Harry!" The Minister called, a little louder than was absolutely necessary; as intended this caused Lily to race into the room moments later.

"Harry! How have you been?" she asked as her head joined her husband's in the emerald flames.

"I'm ok," he said. "Actually… there was an incident. I was attacked but my robes deflected the spell. They worked perfectly; I'll have to thank Luna, Hermione and the twins next time I see them."

"Me too," Lily agreed in a voice laden with relief. "Are you _sure_ you're ok?"

"Physically, yes." His parents looked at him in concern and he took a deep breath. "One of the attackers hanged herself." His mum gasped. "I asked that they be treated leniently and she decided that meant she owed me a life debt – apparently they _could_ have been executed for attacking me. Anyway, I just feel so guilty that she's dead and it's because she didn't want to owe a life debt to a wizard."

"Harry, it's _not your fault_ ," James told him sternly.

"I know, dad, I just…" his son shook his head.

"Oh darling, I wish I could give you a hug right about now," Lily's voice was full of sympathy.

"Well, maybe soon you can," he disclosed.

"What do you mean?" James asked.

"The Queen is setting up the floo to allow people through; they're ready to sign and you are, as such, invited to visit the castle."

James's mood lifted in an instant. "That's wonderful news, Harry. When does she want the ceremony?"

"She suggested this afternoon if you're available; it will take a little while yet to get the floo set up to receive people."

"I'll be there. Lil, we can cancel those meetings, move them to tomorrow; Barty won't mind being shunted a couple of days for this."

"Definitely," she practically skipped out of the office to make the arrangements and contact the people whose meetings were being rescheduled.

* * *

The welcoming committee were assembled in the private office. Harry, the Queen and a handful of senior courtiers (including Danielle) stood waiting (with a couple of her guards stood inconspicuously in the background as usual) for the arrival of the Minister; the Queen looked resplendent in regal gold and pink robes under her usual ermine outer robe while Harry was surprised to see Gabrielle was also in attendance, wearing the same hue of gold that she had for the trial, though she tried to avoid making eye contact with Harry.

It turned out that Harry was incorrect in his thoughts; as the fire erupted he discovered that his mother _had_ flooed over with her husband, though she admitted (after hugging him to within an inch of his life, much to the Veelas' amusement) that she had really come to see him, having not been able to hug her son since he left on his mission.

"Your Majesty," James began, "may I suggest that we start by reading through the changes made to the treaty during the negotiations?"

The monarch looked questioningly at him for a few seconds before Harry repeated the suggestion in French; her face brightened immediately and she concurred that it would be the best place to start.

Harry took the treaty; a wave of his wand and a " _Gemino_ " later an exact duplicate appeared, which we took and led his parents to a desk where he began to translate the various amendments for James's benefit.

The British Minister nodded as Harry talked him through the wording (Lily sat on her son's other side, arms still around him; some wondered if she would _ever_ let him go). The Veela looked on at the Potters; all seemed well until James suddenly frowned – Harry had reached the part where he promised them access to the shield-charmed robes.

"You shouldn't have done that, Harry," James chided him. "It's a decision that should have been left to me."

"I _did_ wonder about that," his son admitted, "but we're asking them to be our allies, promising to fight alongside them if attacked and they'd just seen these things in action. What do you think it would have meant for negotiations if I _didn't_ offer it?"

"Still, you exceeded your position. You should have left it as a recommendation to the Minister rather than promising it."

"Wouldn't you have offered it?" Lily sounded surprised.

"Of course I would have, but it would have been a bargaining chip for something, or at least earned us some political capital for later on. That's how these things work."

Harry looked downcast, now feeling he'd blown it; the chances of his career moving forward when his father _wasn't_ in charge looked remote. It was an expression that the Queen didn't miss.

"Well, what's done is done," Lily reasoned. "I'm sure if we need something in future, especially if they ever have to _use_ these charmed robes in battle, it will help if they're reminded of it."

James made a non-committal noise with his throat before gesturing that Harry should continue talking him through the treaty.

"Everything seems in order, and acceptable," the Minister noted when they reached the end of the parchment. He stood and walked over to the Queen's desk; the original document sat in front of her.

"We are ready to sign, Your Majesty," Harry relayed; she drew an exotic-looking quill from within the desk and dipped the end in the ink well by the treaty document before signing a looping, flourished signature. She held out the quill; James accepted it and repeated the act, sealing the alliance between the British and the Veela to much applause from the courtiers. The Queen offered her hand; James tried to kiss it but first she tensed her arm enough for him to understand she wished for a handshake to begin with before allowing him his gesture.

"Minister Potter, Mme Potter, please join us for dinner," the Queen invited; after Harry translated James glanced at his wife, who was nodding eagerly, clearly wanting to spend more time with their son. The group headed to the Dining Hall where they saw the Royal Table now sat at the head of a couple of long tables. For the first time in his stay, Harry was invited to the top table; he sat next to his mother, James was on her other side with the Queen next to him. His eyes found Danielle, sitting about a third of the way down one of the tables and she smiled at him before dishes and plates began to appear before them all.

* * *

"We must leave now, unfortunately. There is still business to attend to in Britain," James declared once the empty dessert plates had disappeared (Harry again translated). "Your Majesty," he stood; she copied and the rest of the room quickly followed, "I thank you for your hospitality."

"It was our pleasure; we are always delighted to welcome our friends to our home," she replied before leading the Potters back to her office.

"With your permission, Your Majesty," James placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, "I would like Harry to remain here as our interim Ambassador while things progress between our nations." Harry's voice shook with emotion as he repeated the request in French; the Queen raised no objection, instead congratulating a blushing Harry on his new position.

"I hate to leave you again but congratulations, son," Lily told him, hugging him tight. "Come and visit soon?"

"I will, mum. Now the deal's done I'll see if the Queen will permit travel to and from here for me." A quick question to the monarch saw her confirm that Harry _would_ be allowed to travel between the castle and the British Minister's Office by floo. Their security, she explained, could be compromised by allowing further access from other locations at this time, something everyone could appreciate.

"You earned this, Harry," James said as he casually lobbed some floo powder into the fireplace. "Once everything settles down, hopefully we can discuss you being recommended for the position full-time."

"That would be fantastic, thanks dad," father and son embraced before a teary Lily kissed his cheek and followed her husband into the fire and back to Britain.

"You know, Ambassador," the Queen told him, "it is traditional for us to celebrate the signing of a treaty – even more so now you have your new job and will be staying with us."

"What do your traditions involve, Your Majesty?" he asked.

"Firstly," she reached under her desk and produced a bottle of fine wine and two glasses, "I think a small drink is in order." Her idea of a small drink turned out to be a _very_ generous measure of the deep red liquid. "To the treaty," she raised her glass.

"To a new and eternal friendship between our people," he touched his to hers.

* * *

"Ambassador, your Minister seemed upset with something while you were discussing the treaty with him. What was the problem?" she asked curiously.

"Oh," he reddened a bit at the memory of his father's words and the knowledge that an audience had seen his dressing-down, even if the language escaped them. "He told me that I'd overstepped the mark in offering you our shielded clothing technology. He rightly said that the offer should have been his to make and not mine."

"Is it that big a problem?" she asked.

"It's the way things are done," he tried to shrug it off. "In the wrong hands this ability could seriously compromise our people and our ability to defend our nation, which is why somebody more senior than myself would usually be the one to decide to make the offer."

She could tell he wasn't revealing the whole truth. "There is more to it than that," she stated flatly; he sighed.

"To offer it to a foreign power… I'm sure you understand, Your Majesty, that things like this can be a basis for negotiation, an ability to get something in exchange."

The Queen looked thoughtful; she could see the Minister's position on not wanting to just give something away but at the same time, the thought of this technology being out there and an ally not letting them have access to it…

"Well if nothing else it has certainly built up some political capital with us," she observed eventually. "Your offer will see future suggestions looked upon more favourably; the Queen topped up both glasses as they had begun to empty them, leaving Harry feeling a little light-headed as he got midway through his second glass, as did his hostess.

"If you will excuse me," she stood; Harry thought she would leave but instead she surprised him by wriggling out of the robes she had worn, leaving herself again in just the ermine outer robe. "It feels strange to be wearing them; I am more used to this attire and much prefer it," she observed, a lifetime of training preventing her from blushing like a schoolgirl as she eyed her young guest.

"I am not complaining," he smirked, the alcohol leading to his rather undiplomatic observation; fortunately the Queen just sniggered as her regal posture was further challenged, "but you may have to get used to wearing it if you have more dealings with national leaders in the future."

"I suppose," she sighed, "but for now I will enjoy one of the traditions of our nation."

 _As will I_ , thought Harry, hiding his grin inside his glass.

* * *

"Come with me," she instructed, taking his hand once they had emptied their glasses. She led from the office to a corridor he'd not yet traversed and then up an ornate staircase to the top of the highest tower where two Veela stood guard by a set of double doors; the women opened the doors respectfully and the Queen (still holding Harry's hand) led him inside a large and beautifully decorated bedroom. Harry's eyes widened as he _really_ hoped he was reading the situation correctly.

"These are the Royal Chambers," she explained. "I wish us to celebrate the successful negotiations by making love."

"This is one of your traditions?" he asked in shock at her proposition.

" _Celebration_ is traditional; exactly _how_ I choose to celebrate is up to me," she clarified.

 _The most beautiful woman I have ever seen… well, one of the two_ , he amended his thought as the image of Gabrielle appeared in his mind's eye; he tried to squash down the thought of the lovely servant, having been taught that fraternisation with serving staff was often considered a serious breach of diplomatic protocol, _wishes to sleep with me_. "Your Majesty, while I feel unworthy of such an honour, if it is your wish then I will comply," he declared formally; the Queen shocked him further by throwing back her head and laughing; a rich, musical laugh that seemed to settle his nerves and calm his whole body at the sound of it.

"I thought you might," she observed in a teasing voice as she totally abandoned her regal posture. "Now, Ambassador, I believe you should kiss me."

"As you wish, Your Majesty," he grinned, not needing asking twice; he placed his palms gently on her cheeks and leaned in, giving her a passionate kiss. The monarch's arms slipped behind his back, pulling him closer to her as their tongues met in his mouth. They kissed for a few moments before breaking apart for air.

"One of the best kisses I have ever had," the glassy-eyed Queen declared.

"Only _one_ of the best?" Harry asked in mock-horror, part of his brain wondering about who else she might have kissed like that. "I need to fix that," he kissed her again. When they separated again she led him over to her huge bed.

Harry flashed a boyish grin at his lover-to-be. "I hope I'm not about to commit a capital crime," he half-joked before reaching forward and gently removing her crown, setting it on the bedside table; she swept a hand through her silvery-blonde hair and shook it free to cascade down her shoulders and back. Harry then gently undid the bow that held her robe together at her neck; it slid to the floor leaving her completely nude before him.

"I will have to check our laws," she put her hands on her hips and pulled a thoughtful expression. "If you satisfy me I will make sure you are not executed," she added with a smirk.

"I shall endeavour to comply, Your Majesty," he laughed.

"Please, Your Excellency, in this room you should call me Fleur," she told him softly.

"Then you should call me Harry… Fleur," he kissed her once more as she reached up, helping him remove his own robes before they lay down together on her bed. This time, as he shed the enchanted robes, he thought that he would be ready to experience the Veela allure and braced for its impact, however the volume and power of it pouring off Fleur still threatened to render him a drooling imbecile as it washed over him.

"Are you ok, 'Arry?" she asked as she saw his reaction.

"Your allure; it is incredibly powerful."

"I am Queen," she stated matter-of-factedly, "my family has a very powerful allure, more so than most of my subjects."

"That much is obvious," he commented; she giggled again.

"It can have its advantages," she leaned back and let more of her power roll off her. "It is said to _dramatically_ increase a wizard's performance and stamina."

"Then, Your Majesty," he winked as he began to come to terms with the feelings her allure, and her beauty, were subjecting him to, "you _shall_ be satisfied tonight."

"I hope so," she teased back, "or much of your political capital will be lost this night."

Harry chuckled; there was no way he was going to leave this beautiful Veela unsatisfied.

* * *

"That was… magnificent, 'Arry," Fleur purred. Rolling over to the side of the bed, she hopped to the floor and walked to a small anteroom (Harry admired the view as she walked away). Queen Fleur soon returned, holding a bottle in one hand and a tray, holding a bowl filled with strawberries and two glass flutes, in the other. "I feel we should celebrate some more while we… recharge," she grinned, "even my allure and your stamina have their limits."

Harry held his tongue; he felt that he could continue but could admit that a short rest would prevent him from passing out in the royal bed, something the diplomat in him could see might not be part of his lover's plan. He took the tray from her and she clambered back onto her bed, popping the cork of the bottle and pouring the sparkling white wine into the two flutes.

"To 'Arry and Fleur," she proclaimed shyly as she picked up her flute, "so much more than political allies."

The statement confused him a little in its vaguery but he touched his glass to hers. "To us," he replied evenly, albeit with a warm smile; after all, with the here and now being so pleasant, he would not worry about the future, leaving it to reveal itself in time. The couple savoured the fruit and drained their glasses before moving into one another's arms to continue the night of celebration.

* * *

 **AN: So yes, Fleur is the Queen (as I think many of you had suspected). Yes, Gabrielle is her sister but no, she's not a servant; Harry just thinks she is.**

 **Many thanks as always for reading this chapter; all reviews are gratefully received. PD**


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Hello everyone, Merry Christmas and thank you for clicking on this chapter; I hope you're all well. My thanks, as always, to everyone who read and (especially) reviewed last time.**

 **Content warning for this chapter (violence and rape); reader discretion is advised.**

* * *

Chapter 12

 _Wednesday, 22_ _nd_ _October 2003_

Fleur kissed Harry one last time before he left her chambers. "Do not forget, _Ambassador_ ," she told him as he exited, "your new position entitles you to dine at the Royal table. I expect to see you there when I arrive."

He nodded. "Your Majesty," he returned formally, though he accompanied his bow with a cheeky wink, causing the Queen to dissolve into giggles; she smiled at the closed door for about fifteen seconds after Harry left before starting to get herself ready for the day.

Harry wore a broad smile as he traversed the castle, ultimately arriving at the dining hall. He greeted the courtiers he recognised, most of whom offered their congratulations on his promotion; he accepted their good wishes graciously on his way to the top table.

Fleur arrived a few minutes later, taking her seat at the centre of the table and greeting the other diners in turn, including Harry. Her greeting was cordial but regal, giving no suggestion of their activities the previous day, though Danielle, studying them from her vantage point in the hall, noticed her monarch smiling more than she usually did.

"Her Majesty seems happy this morning," she observed to Harry, intercepting him as he was leaving the hall.

"Yesterday was the culmination of everything we have been working towards these past few weeks, the signing of an important treaty and the forging of a new alliance; she _should_ be happy," he returned with a smile.

"I don't believe that is why she's so happy," the Veela commented with a knowing look. "Anyway, congratulations… Ambassador."

Harry suppressed his blushes and just thanked her; he decided not to ask _what_ she was congratulating him over.

 _Connemara,_ _14-18 Cours Albret,_

 _Bordeaux, France_

"Remus!" Jacques greeted his friend jovially before turning serious. "I bring news – or rather Gerhard does," he gestured to the man who had followed him into the establishment. "News from the East."

"Really? Anything I can bring to my Ministry's attention would be…" Remus struggled over the words in French, "welcome," he managed finally.

"I speak English if you like," Gerhard announced unexpectedly, albeit with a strong German accent; Remus looked at him.

"That would certainly help," he replied with a smile.

"Yes, I speak English, French, German – of course, along with some Polish, Czech and Russian." He frowned. "In another world I think my command of languages would help make me an excellent diplomat."

Remus managed a smile at the newcomer. "Unfortunately a few nights every month we're not very diplomatic," he chuckled.

Recognising a fellow, the German nodded his agreement with Lupin's observation. "Anyway, the news I have is not good. You knew Romania and Transylvania had been taken by this new Empire?" Remus nodded. "Well Poland fell too, followed by Slovakia and Hungary. The Czechs joined voluntarily."

Remus looked stunned; Jacques, of course, had already heard this before bringing the German to the meeting.

"That means they control everything in Eastern Europe outside of the Balkans and have a long border with Germany." Gerhard nodded.

"The German government is concerned, obviously. They are talking with the ministry in Austria about a coordinated approach to dealing with them if either are invaded. Given how big an operation that would be it is… unlikely at this stage at least."

"And further south?"

"Possibly," Gerhard shrugged. "For now many feel they will consolidate and secure their new territory before looking to make further gains. There are also whisperings of an uprising being planned in Poland – where or when I do not know: our people," he gestured between himself and the other werewolves in the room, "are divided over which side to take." He gazed at Remus. "Your country's initiative would certainly help turn more of us to the West. I hope more governments follow their lead."

Remus left the room feeling he was ready to return home; he'd achieved his main goal, made some good friends and contacts and had some bonus intelligence to bring back as well. All in all he felt it couldn't have gone much better.

"Here," he reached into his bag and pulled out the last bottle of Wolfsbane potion he still had with him. "This should be good for nine or ten doses – so it will last you three months."

"It will last one month for my friends and I," the German corrected; Remus nodded, making a note and a promise to send more potion to the man as soon as he could.

 _The Leaky Cauldron,_

 _Charing Cross Road,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

Draco strolled into the dingy pub; he smiled cruelly when he saw the red-haired twins at their usual table at the back of the room and swaggered over to them.

"It's decision time, boys," he declared as they looked up to see who had joined them. "Do we have a deal? Or does your sister stay locked up in Azkaban, with only dementors for company?"

The brothers exchanged a glance, pretending to weigh things up; they knew, of course, that Ginny's wing wasn't housing prisoners bad enough to be guarded by those monsters but it couldn't hurt to let Malfoy think he had a better hand than he really did.

"If you can bring Ginny here…" Fred began.

"Tomorrow," George interrupted.

"Tomorrow," his twin agreed.

"Then we've got a deal," George confirmed.

"We'll have the samples," Fred added.

"You bring our sister and we'll make the swap."

Malfoy's head was beginning to hurt from dealing with the Weasleys. "You want her out of prison _tomorrow_?" he asked; they nodded in stereo.

"You said you'd get her out of there," George pointed out.

"If you want something from us," Fred eyed him, trying to keep a predatory look off his face.

"Then you've got to do something _for_ us," George concluded.

The blond scowled. "Tomorrow's _very_ short notice."

"You were the one who said time was up," George retorted.

"I'll bring her. Same time tomorrow?" he asked.

"Same time tomorrow," the Weasley twins chorused; Malfoy left wearing a half-smile. It would be easy enough for him to get the Weaslette out of prison in time but he was hoping they'd agree to give him more time to do it. It was a long shot but one he was hoping they'd go for. Instead, he needed to see his father – _never_ something that he enjoyed doing in these circumstances.

 _Malfoy Manor,_

 _Swindon, Wiltshire_

Draco shook off his cloak nervously; Dobby disappeared with it and announced his arrival to his master. The House-Elf returned soon after to find the youngest Malfoy pacing the room nervously. "Master says he will see his son in his study," Dobby declared before disappearing again. Draco swallowed down his worry and headed for the room.

"What news, Draco?" Lucius asked, eyeing him intimidatingly as he entered.

"They'll have the things for us tomorrow, but _only_ if the slut is handed over to them," he replied.

"That will make things… more expensive," Lucius commented; his son nodded. "But if that is the cost…" He reached into a drawer in his desk and pulled out a money pouch. "This had better work, Draco," he threatened as he lobbed the pouch to him.

"It will," he squawked; Lucius just shook his head at how pathetic a man his son had turned out to be – damn his mother for spoiling the brat. Speaking of whom, Draco had fled as quickly as he could without appearing indecent, doubtless to see her and try and get some sympathy after being in his father's presence.

Malfoy rose, tossing a pinch of powder into his fireplace. "Regulus Black," he snapped before thrusting his face into the green flames.

"Lucius? What is it?" Regulus asked as the man's head appeared in his living room.

"We will have what we need tomorrow… or there will be… consequences," he growled; Regulus nodded, keeping his own reservations over Malfoy's scheme to himself for now.

 _Port of Aberdeen, Magical Prisoner Processing Annex_

 _Thursday, 23_ _rd_ _October 2003_

Draco had appeared at the Apparition point early in the morning; he knew time was limited if he was to do everything he wanted today in time to keep his meeting with the twins. He strode purposefully to the main office; the occupants looked up in surprise as somebody unexpected entered.

"Good morning," the worker closest to the door greeted him. "What can we do for you today."

"I need to speak to whoever is in charge," Malfoy replied; his tone was all business.

The woman gestured to a door at the rear of the area; a small, separate office could be seen through the partially frosted glass window. Malfoy thanked her curtly and knocked before entering the office.

"Can I help you?" The Shift Manager asked in a surly voice.

"Yes, you can release Ginny Weasley from Azkaban and bring her here. I have the money for her fine."

The Manager eyed the young man balefully; he didn't like the Malfoy scion's attitude. He tapped the filing cabinet with his wand and muttered "Weasley." The draw flew open and ejected a sheet of parchment.

"Says here Weasley still has over a month of her sentence to serve." He peered at the notes that the Head Guard had written on his copy of the prisoner's file (which was magically copied to the parchment at the port). "She's been a model prisoner so good behaviour would see her out next week." He looked from the parchment to Malfoy. "I'm afraid you've had a wasted trip, sir. Come back next week."

Draco frowned as the man dropped the parchment back in the cabinet; it swallowed it before closing on its own. The Manager started a little as he heard a jingle behind him; a small pouch had appeared on his desk and Malfoy was glaring at him.

"You bring Weasley here _this morning_ and this is yours." He opened the pouch and showed the contents to the other; the pouch contained a mixture of bullion, certainly several months of salary for the man. His mind immediately raced to what it would do for his family – allowing them a nice holiday, some new things for the kids, saving some money for when they were ready to go to Hogwarts… the list was mounting. He sighed and withdrew Ginny's file again, making some notes of his own.

"You said you had the money for her fine?"

Draco nodded, reluctantly handing over an additional two hundred galleons. The Manager made a few more notes before returning the parchment to the cabinet; a minute or so later the drawer flew open and spat out a sheet of parchment again. He read it and turned to Malfoy.

"The prisoner will be here in an hour; they're getting her processed for release now before putting her on the boat."

Malfoy nodded. "I'll return in an hour then," he promised before leaving to find somewhere that was more befitting a person of his breeding, where he could wait for her arrival.

 _Azkaban Prison,_

 _North Sea_

"Weasley!" The guard opened Ginny's cell; the redhead shuffled forward, her skin and prison robes filthy. "It's your lucky day; you're being released."

Ginny's spirits lifted in an instant; she smiled as she walked past the guard and on her first steps towards freedom. He led her to the front of the prison and out into the sweet, albeit cold, fresh air of the autumnal morning. She stepped onto the rickety boat and set sail from the island, silently vowing that she would never return.

 _Department of Magical Law Enforcement,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London_

"Hi Neville," George Weasley strode into the office and greeted the Senior Auror; Neville looked up at him and Fred, a half-step behind him.

"Malfoy's been in touch?" He guessed; the twins nodded.

"He wants the stuff tonight; he's bringing Ginny."

Neville gave a half-glower, half-smirk; the prisoner was being released early; he scribbled a note on his parchment, figuring that an investigation could unearth the corruption that was bringing this about – maybe something else he could pin on Malfoy when this went down.

"Ok, let's go to your workshop," he stood and gestured to the Weasleys.

"So here we have the robes we need to charm," Fred began, gesturing to the bright blue material. "We put the initial charms on the fabric to make it integrate further magic before it gets turned into them."

"Interesting colour scheme," Neville commented.

"Yes, we didn't think it would fit in with the Eastern European look so wouldn't get worn."

"And now," George picked up his wand and pointed it at the material, "we put the charms on and we're done."

"Hold on," Neville put his hand out. "We could do with adding something else; a little something Luna was working on for us." He pointed his own wand at the robes. " _Persequar_ ," he muttered, quietly enough that the twins couldn't pick up the incantation. "That's top secret, something developed for the Auror Department; an undetectable tracking charm," he explained as the fabric glowed red for a couple of seconds before returning to its blue colour.

The twins shrugged. " _Protego fabrica_ " George cast the shield charm; again the material glowed, white this time, before going back to blue. Fred repeated the charm, 'applying' a second to it.

"The good thing is, my charm should _really_ be undetectable as the shield should block any detection charms they cast at it," he observed thoughtfully.

"It's always blocked _ours_ ," Fred agreed.

"That's how we first realised we'd done it," George added.

Neville walked to the far corner of the workshop; he took out a piece of parchment and tapped it with his wand. Immediately some words appeared on it. "Fourteen feet north-west," he read, turning round and walking back over to the twins, counting down as he did, "Twelve, Ten, Nine, Seven, Five…" He smiled. "Working perfectly, even with your shield charms on top of it. Wherever Malfoy takes this thing," he tapped the parchment, "we'll know it."

"You tied the charm to that parchment?" Fred asked in wonder.

"Ingenious," his twin agreed.

Neville smiled; this had been given to him by the Minister himself; James hadn't gone into detail but had said the magic was similar to what he'd used in creating the Marauder's Map, something Neville was _very_ familiar with due to his closeness with Harry.

 _Port of Aberdeen, Magical Prisoner Processing Annex_

Of all the people Ginny thought might be waiting on her as she stepped off the boat, Draco Malfoy was never going to climb far above last place on the list, yet here the blond was, watching her closely as she returned to the mainland. She had no possessions; her wand and everything she'd been wearing when she was arrested was still in the Ministry building.

"Hello Ginny," he greeted her kindly; something that only served to increase her unease at the situation. "Why so worried?" he asked in the same, gentle voice. "Haven't you anything to say to the person who got you out of there?"

He was immediately swamped by the young woman, hugging him for all she was worth with the gratitude she felt at his words. He smiled over her shoulder as he held the still-shaking girl; there was plenty of time before he met the twins – this was going to be fun.

 _Wizengamot Chamber,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London_

"Any other business?" Crouch looked around the chamber. When nobody reacted he continued, "There now follows an extraordinary statement from the Minister for Magic." He nodded to James and took his seat as the Minister stood.

"Members of the Wizengamot," James began, "At the beginning of October I commissioned a young member of our Department for International Magical Co-operation to find one of the continent's reclusive Veela enclaves." A few gasps and murmurs met this statement, though he noticed many did not react at all; that the traditionalists clearly knew didn't surprise him – after all Wormtail was feeding them information – but the centrists? Their knowledge of it suggested that Black and others had informed them, probably spinning it for their own ends. "I am pleased to announce that our envoy _did_ make contact with them. As you are no doubt aware, we face a shift in the balance of power within Europe due to the formation of the Empire that is gaining power and territory in Eastern Europe. It is my belief – and my fear – that if left unchecked they will come to dominate the entire continent in time and pose a very real threat to our way of life and our independence in Britain," to his surprise he saw the smallest nod from Regulus; Black's cohorts seemed indifferent to his doom-laden proclamation while the other members of the ruling body adopted concerned expressions. "As such, and given that a number of Veela are dispersed across the continent, some living in these countries either as part of the wider magical communities or in their own Quasi-autonomous lands, it is my belief that they potentially represent a vital source of intelligence to help us learn what the Empire is planning, as well as being a possible ally in the event of a conflict with them." This was less well received; most of the chamber shook their heads at the thought of allying with a race of creatures, as they saw them. "To that end," he pressed on, "our envoy was authorised to negotiate a basic treaty on behalf of the Ministry – a treaty, I'm delighted to say, I signed yesterday afternoon."

As he expected, the chamber exploded. Many members were on their feet, ignoring the long-standing convention that the Minister had the floor so long as he was on his feet; questions flew thick and fast in his direction, so much noise being made that he couldn't pick out any individual questions to answer. Finally Barty Crouch let off a few firecrackers from his wand, restoring some semblance of calm and quiet to the chamber.

"As this statement has generated quite a response," James smirked with a confidence he didn't truly feel, "I will open things to questions from the chamber at this time." He sat, waiting to see what would be asked.

Most of the questions were predictable – could they be trusted? What did they want? What has been agreed? James deliberately withheld the information about shielded items being available to them (their existence not being disclosed beyond the Department of Magical Research, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and, of course, Harry and those who had seen the items in action); he reasoned that telling them that the treaty committed Aurors to defend the Veela in case of their being attacked would be enough for now.

It was certainly a controversial answer; the ire from the traditionalists was to be expected, their complaints about British Magical lives being risked to protect half-breeds was something he anticipated – his explanation that that was part of what constituted an alliance, after all, failed to placate them. What troubled James most was that many of the more moderate members also seemed unhappy at the extent of the treaty; his argument that the Veela could ultimately stand between Britain, its existing allies and an invasion did little to assuage their misgivings.

* * *

"We could be in trouble here, Barty," he told his mentor quietly as they left the chamber after the gruelling session concluded; questioning was set to resume the following day once the members of the Wizengamot had had a little longer to digest things.

"The chamber was certainly displeased," Crouch concurred.

"This could bring down my government, if Black makes his move at the right time."

Crouch made a non-committal noise; something that worried James more than anything – even a half-hearted denial of things being that bad would have given him a little confidence in the future of his Ministry.

"We knew we'd have to take risks if we wanted to change things for the better, James," he said finally. "Have we gone a step too far? I really hope not. We'll let things sink in and see where we are tomorrow."

"I hope things look better by then," the Minister muttered; he headed to his office desperate to speak to his wife – Lily could always make him feel better.

 _Liberty Plaza, Flat 115,  
_

 _65 Leman St,_ _Whitechapel_

Draco apparated, still holding Ginny, directly into the living room of his dingy one-bedroom flat; it wasn't much but it was all his father was prepared to provide him with at the moment. He hoped for an upgrade once he got the materials from the twins and Lucius curried favour with the emperor.

Ginny was looking around the flat; even to someone raised in the cramped and impoverished conditions of The Burrow it didn't look like much of a place, even with the magical improvements Malfoy had made. She shivered again at the state of the walls, slathered in silver-and-green Slytherin memorabilia and, combined with the dull magical lighting, they seemed to give off a threatening glow.

"It may not be much," Draco's voice drew her from her musings after putting up his security spells (anti-apparition among them), "but it's home for now, and it's _mine_ , not like the cramped hut _your_ family shares."

"Oh I didn't…" she began, the first words she'd uttered in quite a while; her voice croaking and reedy with lack of use, but Malfoy cut her off.

"And it's a _Malfoy_ home," he straightened, "so grotty Azkaban robes have no place in it," his mouth formed a cruel smirk; drawing his wand Draco cast a cutting curse at the girl, she flinched and winced in pain as the movement – along with his own aim and him putting some extra power into the spell – caused the curse to scratch her as it and others shredded her clothes. "Much better," he leered as he appraised her nude body; her hands tried to protect her modesty while trickles of blood dribbled down her skin.

"Oh, _please_ , Weaslette, everyone else has already seen everything you've got so why shouldn't I? Don't forget you tried to sell yourself to _Longbottom_ a few weeks ago to get out of trouble."

Ginny whimpered but didn't move her hands, not until Malfoy cried " _Petrificus Totalis_ ," and her arms snapped to her side, her legs together and she fell onto her back, stiff as a board. "Ah, much better," Draco then levitated her and moved her to his bedroom, pawing at her and fondling her as he did, ignoring the pain and revulsion in her eyes as he did. A quick cleaning charm removed the blood from her skin and he stunned her before releasing the body bind.

Malfoy strolled calmly to his wardrobe and selected four of his old Slytherin ties; one each affixed Ginny's wrists and ankles to his bed, leaving her spread-eagled and _very_ exposed. "I want you awake for this, slut. _Enervate_ ," he pointed his wand at her again, returning her to consciousness. It took the red-haired girl less than a second to realise her predicament. The realisation, and failure to be able to cover herself despite struggling against her bonds, was followed by her voice returning to full use by way of a string of invective aimed at her captor, until a vicious backhand to the cheek silenced her. The same hand swung again, dealing a blow to the other cheek.

"You don't understand. _I_ got you out of there. You're _mine_ now, slut," and he slapped her again, and again with another backhand as he demanded she stop struggling. Eventually the fight seemed to leave her eyes, the vitriol replaced by a pained whimper.

"You see, Weaslette, there was no need for language like that," he caressed her inflamed cheek almost tenderly as he spoke softly. "There's no reason why we shouldn't _both_ enjoy this." He stood and stripped his own clothing before climbing back onto the bed, taking in Ginny's look of fear and resignation. He forcefully entered her, yielding a wail of pain from the girl. "Of course," he added, "I'm sure _I'll_ enjoy it more than _you_ do."

Malfoy finally untied Ginny once he was done; the girl immediately curled up in a ball as she continued to whimper.

* * *

"We must do this again, Weaslette," he told her as he rolled off her. Hearing her elicit a small moan he turned to her and narrowed his eyes. "Oh we _will_ , and you will tell _nobody_. Unless, of course, you'd rather move back to your cell for the rest of your sentence, along with a couple of dementors for cell mates?" It was a bluff; Malfoy didn't have the power to do that, but it was enough to guarantee the redhead's co-operation – _nothing_ would make her risk returning to that place or being surrounded by the foul soul-suckers.

"I _do_ have some good news for you though, slut," he smiled. "You get to see your family today." She was sat up in an instant, still trying to cover herself despite her ordeal. He waved his wand at her casually, healing and masking enough of the bruises he'd caused that nobody would get suspicious of him and what he'd been up to. "So take a shower and get dressed, then we'll go on our little trip." He pointed through to the bathroom and she trudged off there while he found some of his old school robes that might just about fit her – that they were in Slytherin colours would simply remind her that she belonged to him now, he thought with a smirk.

Ginny spent a long time under the water, trying to wash the feeling of uncleanliness off her after the afternoon she'd had. Finally Draco dragged her out of the shower by her hair and told her to get dressed; he quickly washed himself before joining her in the living room of the flat, enjoying her look of discomfort as she wore the hated colours of Slytherin house.

"Ready to see your brothers?" he asked brightly; she nodded meekly. He roughly seized her arm, waved his wand to cancel his spells and apparated with her to Diagon Alley.

 _The Leaky Cauldron,_

 _Charing Cross Road_

"Ginny!" Fred's shout caused all eyes to turn to him and then to the two new arrivals. The girl left Draco's side and ran over to her older brothers, launching herself into Fred's arms as she began to sob. George engulfed them from her other side, sandwiching the weeping girl between them.

"Alright, show's over," Draco tried to adopt a commanding voice as he strode across the room; slowly the patrons lost interest and returned to their own business, the blond sitting down at the table and waiting for the Weasley clan to attain some semblance of calm.

"Slytherin robes?" George challenged.

"Well the things she was wearing when she was arrested are still at the Ministry so it was this or what was left of the pieces of cloth they'd wrapped her in in Azkaban." To his satisfaction he saw the girl wince as he mentioned the prison. "Well, I've done my bit, what have you got for me?" he demanded, looking unusually serious. Ginny looked curiously at her brothers. Fred reached under the table and picked up a couple of canvas bags.

"Here," he said. "We have two sets of charmed robes and two charmed hats."

"Each of them," George took over, "is capable of repelling two curses, hexes or other spells. Of course," he smiled as Draco opened his mouth, "we have looked into ways of making things that provide even _more_ protection…"

"But since we're pretty sure you're going to try and blackmail us for the foreseeable future," Fred glared at the blond.

"We deemed it prudent to hold some things back."

Malfoy looked rather annoyed at the way they'd read him so easily and anticipated what he would do.

"This will do for now," he grunted. "I _will_ be back." He shot Ginny a look and she tried to suppress a flinch, watching him disappear from the pub.

"You risked that much for me?" she whispered to her brothers.

"What else could we do?" Fred slipped an arm around her shoulders as George's snaked around her waist; Ginny drew some comfort from their presence though she knew Malfoy would come calling again soon.

* * *

 **Yes, Malfoy is a real PoS, isn't he? I hardly think he'd take her to Madam Puddifoot's and spend the rest of the day walking around Hogsmeade with her though.**

 **Thank you for reading. Reviews are always appreciated. Merry Christmas once again. PD  
**


	13. Chapter 13

**Happy New Year everyone. My thanks as always to all of you who read (and especially reviewed) the last chapter**

* * *

Chapter 13

 _The Burrow,_

 _Ottery St. Cathchpole, Devon, United Kingdom_

"Ginny!" Molly's shriek would probably have been heard at the nearby Rookery, had Luna Lovegood been home or her father, Xenophilius, been listening rather than writing his latest fanciful article for _The_ _Quibbler_ magazine.

It was, however, sufficiently loud to see Arthur Weasley race from his shed to join her. He was almost moved to tears when he saw his daughter there, swamped by her mother's arms; their two twins stood watching and smiling. Molly finally released the girl and she clung to her father sobbing against his chest.

"How?" Molly asked the boys.

"We spoke to Neville and a few strings got pulled," Fred said; it was the truth and nothing but the truth, it just wasn't the _whole_ truth.

"He wasn't too happy," George added quietly so their sister didn't overhear this part, "seeing someone who _was_ guilty getting released early, but we managed to come to an arrangement."

Molly frowned, not wanting the reminder that her daughter _was_ actually guilty. "You're not going to be in any trouble are you?" she demanded; the twins shook their heads in unison.

"No, we're not," Fred insisted.

The rest of the evening was spent in celebration for the Weasley family.

 _Malfoy Manor,_

 _Swindon, Wiltshire_

Draco strode triumphantly into his father's study and placed the charmed robes on his father's desk. "Success!" he declared before taking a tumbler and pouring some water from the pitcher on the desk into it; he dropped the water on the fabric and they saw it roll off and pool on the floor. "The ones they gave me are only good for deflecting a couple of spells but this was a demonstration of exactly what they can do." Missing Lucius's frown at the limitations of the garments he gestured to the colour. "Of course the next batch I get from them will be more appropriate for the Emperor and his cohorts."

"You've done well, Draco," Lucius conceded as he considered the situation; the blond boy flushed with pride. "This is certainly something that I can show Karkaroff, something that should convince him that, under new management of course, Britain is a worthy member of the Empire."

"And then we will have policies that restore the rightful order of things," his son added with a smile, "instead of Potter's idiocies."

"Go and see your mother, Draco," Malfoy Sr. ordered. "I have things to attend to before dinner."

Draco nodded and took his leave while Lucius penned a letter; a regal-looking owl flew into the study as he finished and sealed it. "Take this to Bulgaria," he ordered; the owl hooted and took flight.

 _Dining Hall,_

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

 _Friday, 24_ _th_ _October 2003_

"Good morning Your Majesty." Harry bowed as Fleur entered and took her place at the Royal table.

"Ambassador," she afforded him a small smile. "As you were," she addressed the room in general; the Veela sat and returned to their breakfast.

"May I request a brief audience this morning?" he asked once she sat.

"Is a formal meeting necessary?" she enquired.

"Not really," he admitted. "It shouldn't need to be overly official."

"I am intrigued now," Fleur smiled. "Perhaps we should discuss this after we eat?"

He nodded and returned to his meal while the Queen's plate was filled.

* * *

"So, what did you wish to discuss?" she asked when the table was empty and most people had left the room.

"Now that the treaty has been signed I wanted to go home for the weekend and was wondering how best to go about it without jeopardising your security."

"The floo from the Royal Office," she told him. "It is the only one connected for travel and only to the British Minister's Office at this time. You may use it to go to your father's office and return from there… Sunday?"

"Monday would be better," he looked hopefully at her. "Perhaps late afternoon? That would give me time to see the people I want to and catch up with them."

"Well until you can bring news of a ratified treaty there is little to discuss here," she reasoned. "Come to the office when you are ready to leave and contact me by floo when you are ready to come back; I can also contact your Ministry if I need to summon you," she returned his smile.

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

"Dad?" James looked up as the fire in the office turned green and he heard his son's voice.

"Harry?"

"Yep," he could hear the mirth in the Acting Ambassador's voice. "I was hoping to come home for the weekend now that the deal is done at this end. I've cleared it with the Queen to come back on Monday."

"Well come on through then," his father urged. Harry turned to the Queen and said farewell; as they were not alone in the office she merely nodded before he picked up his bag and stepped into the fireplace, disappearing from the enclave.

"Hello son," James rose and pulled Harry into a hug. "Good to see you again." He eyed the bag. "You brought your washing I see," he teased. "Your mum _will_ be pleased."

Harry laughed. "It's one good thing about coming home," he observed. "Plus now I have a permanent base there and the means to come back and forth I can take a few more things back with me rather than wearing the same set or two of robes all the time."

"How are they holding up?"

"The charms? I'm not sure: other than that one occasion it's not like people have been flinging curses at me."

"Well, let's test them," James grinned mischievously and raised his wand. " _Stupefy!_ " The curse bounced harmlessly off Harry and exploded against the wall, causing Lily to race into her husband's office.

"What happened?" she asked breathlessly before seeing who her husband's wand was trained on. "Harry?!"

"Hi mum. Dad decided to attack me but it didn't work," he grinned, stepping forward and hugging the redhead.

"I was testing his shield robes!" the Minister protested.

"Yeah, yeah, now he says that," Harry complained, smiling at his father over his mother's shoulder.

"How long are you back for?" she asked.

"Just a long weekend really," he disclosed. "I thought I'd catch up with Nev and a few others, maybe call in at school and see the twins – and, of course, spend some time with my wonderful parents."

"I'm sure the girls would love to see you; they've been asking after you in their letters home. We'll have to have Sirius and Remus over for lunch on Sunday," Lily decided.

"Sounds good to me," Harry nodded.

"You should call in on the Weasley twins as well while you're here," James advised. "The charms are clearly still working but it would be a good idea to see if they can be recast so that they last a bit longer."

Harry nodded. "I'll go there after I talk to Neville. Hopefully I can see Luna and Hermione too. How about you?" he asked. "Have you got the treaty through the Wizengamot?"

"Not yet," the Minister admitted, but for now he chose to withhold from his son just how badly things could be going. "There's… understandably a fair bit of opposition to it. Actually, I have more questions to answer about it this afternoon," was the limit of what he would say.

"Would my presence there help? I could give a first-hand account of things from their side."

James paused, mulling it over. "Stick around after you've made your rounds. I'll send for you if I need you."

"Ok dad."

 _12 Grimmauld Place_

"We're getting closer," Lucius Malfoy declared happily, toasting his host with a small Firewhiskey. "With more questioning to come today we can increase the pressure on Potter and his government."

"We might be able to make our move to bring it down as soon as next week," Walden Macnair observed hopefully.

"And once we have Karkaroff on board, everything else will fall into place," Malfoy continued; the gathering raised their glasses enthusiastically, except for one player who sipped his drink thoughtfully.

" _Why_ ", Regulus wondered, not for the first time, " _would I want to become Minister, only to immediately hand the country over to the Emperor and become, at best, his puppet?_ " Black was happy to overthrow Potter, become Minister and implement a Pureblood-centric agenda; he was even more than willing to work _with_ the Empire but had no intention of handing _his_ Ministry over to it on a plate. With everyone else in the room so deeply in Lucius's pocket, it was a thought that he had to keep to himself – for now at least. Instead he scanned the room, eyes settling on Peter Pettigrew; he'd been a valuable source of information about Potter's betrayal of his Pureblood roots but there was _something_ that he couldn't quite put his finger on about the rat – something that led him to think Malfoy was wrong to discuss the plans so fully in front of him.

 _Department of Magical Law Enforcement,_

 _Ministry of Magic_

Neville frowned as the figure loomed over his desk; his head was down as he wrote his report, not wanting to be disturbed. He had no idea who it was who was standing over him; all he knew was that it wasn't Madame Bones, as she would doubtless have spoken to him by now,

Seconds dragged by; Neville continued with his report while the rest of the office watched the newcomer, stood there with his arms folded over his chest and a broad grin on his face. Several aurors were now sniggering behind their hands at Longbottom ignoring his visitor and said visitor seemingly being completely unconcerned about (and, indeed, thoroughly amused by) it.

Finally Neville looked up. "Harry?" he asked, surprised to see his best friend stood there smirking at him. "Harry!" he repeated. "What are you doing back here?"

"Back for a visit," he shrugged as Neville stood, raced round the table and pulled him into a quick bro-hug. "We got the treaty done, dad's going to deal with things at this end but until he does there wasn't too much to do there so I thought I'd come back and see everyone for a few days."

Neville nodded numbly. "So do you have plans for tomorrow?"

"I got back half an hour ago," Harry laughed. "Other than a trip to Hogwarts to see the twins tomorrow morning I really don't have much planned beyond letting mum spoil me all weekend."

"I can get tickets for the Imps' game in the afternoon," Neville offered; Harry gave him a questioning look – lower-league Quidditch wasn't typically something they'd been into as kids and wasn't particularly well supported generally. "My girlfriend's their seeker," he elaborated, causing Potter's eyebrows to rise.

"Did you say _girlfriend_? That's not like you," he teased.

Neville shrugged. "Have to grow up eventually." He tried to elbow Harry in the ribs, only to be stopped by the shield on his robes. "You should try it sometime," he added, rubbing his elbow absently.

"Those Weasley twins are geniuses," Harry grinned as he watched Neville try to pretend that he wasn't in pain.

"They are," Neville agreed, "and _hopefully_ between them and me we have a plan to make sure Malfoy finally gets what's coming to him."

"Really? Do tell," Harry invited.

"I'll save it for the game," Neville grinned. "Got to have something to do while watching Jen trying to find the snitch. Then maybe we can go out somewhere afterwards?"

"If the game finishes in a reasonable time," Harry nodded.

 _Department of Magical Research_

"Hello Luna. Miss Granger," Harry entered the office and smiled at the occupants; Hermione rolled her eyes at his continued insistent formality before her brain registered the fact that he was standing in front of them.

"Harry! You're back."

He tried to look over his shoulder, rotating on the spot as he attempted to look at his back. "What about it?" he asked, winking at Luna, who was already on the brink of giggles; Hermione sighed.

"If I didn't know how good the twins' things were I'd fire something painful at you," she grumbled.

"How was your journey, Harry?" her assistant asked.

"Very good, thank you." He took a seat in the chair facing the blonde's desk. "I found them and negotiated a rudimentary treaty. The Minister has to get it through the chamber here but _hopefully_ he can get that done and it will all be good."

"Do they know much about what's happening in Eastern Europe?" Hermione pried.

"Whisperings so far," Harry turned to the bushy-haired brunette. "They hear some stuff through the Veela that live in various exclaves but haven't _really_ discussed it with them as it has yet to affect them." He drummed his fingers on Luna's desk as he thought about it. "Perhaps I should suggest that they try and get a bit more information from Veela within the Empire's borders. I'll try and arrange a meeting with the Queen next week," he finished with a nod.

"You met _the Queen of the Veelas_?" Hermione gaped; Harry looked at her.

"I was the official emissary of the British Magical government; who did you think I'd be dealing with?"

"I…" she floundered briefly. "I suppose I just didn't think about it. It's obvious really that you would but, _Harry_! Meeting _the Queen_ of their whole nation. That's huge!"

"What's she like?" Luna asked curiously.

"She's actually a lot of fun to be around outside of her official role," he replied evenly. " _Very_ formal when she's acting as monarch but otherwise… she's pretty cool really. Anyway," he tried to steer the topic away from the Queen for now; he could see Luna looking at him inquisitively and placed a finger briefly on his lips while he looked at her before turning to Hermione, "I was hoping to catch Fred and George, report back on the robes and get the charms on them redone before I go back. Are they in today?"

"Yes, they're down in their lab," Hermione confirmed.

"Something exploded earlier so I think they're having fun with whatever they're making," Luna added; Hermione shook her head at the thought.

"If they weren't so good at what they do…" she muttered under her breath.

"Oh Hermione," Harry called as he turned to leave, "remind me next time I'm in to discuss an idea I got from there about magical batteries."

Luna looked intrigued, having come across non-magical technology while she was dating Harry, while Hermione's eyes glazed over at the thought of what they could potentially achieve with such an idea _if_ they could pull it off (it was something the department had been looking at but not yet met with success).

Harry headed down to the twins' workshop, greeted the redheads and thanked them for their efforts. They explained that they were unable to _lift_ the shield charms on the robes (not seeing a need to do so they didn't put a weakness into the design, though they were now _thinking_ about it, though they wouldn't go into details – fresh from his conversation with Neville, Harry strongly suspected Malfoy was involved in some way) but removed them by firing a string of low-power curses at them until finally the shields were broken.

"Great, I'll get them washed and bring them back for you to put new charms on?"

"Sure Harry," George nodded. "We won't be here until Monday though."

"Monday will be fine," he agreed, "I won't be leaving before then anyway so I'll call in and drop them off for you in the morning."

 _Wizengamot Chamber_

James was worried; Regulus's contumely was, to say the least, straddling the border of what was deemed acceptable in the Wizengamot chamber yet even many of the more moderate members seemed to be agreeing with Black's questions and complaints continued, the Minister began to wonder if he had overreached in going for relations with the Veelas, that it was a step his country wasn't ready for – and that it was something that could cost him his job.

The beleaguered Minister leaned over to his Deputy and whispered to him; Frank nodded before standing and leaving the chamber, returning a few moments later with Harry in tow.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to introduce our emissary to the Veelas, the person who was able to do what many here believed would be impossible; he negotiated a treaty with them. Unburdened by the prejudices that many people have about them he was able to get a deal done. He, rather than me, is best placed to answer questions about what this race wants from us and I turn the floor over to him." James then took a much needed drink of water, though he wished it was something rather stronger than that, given the way the questioning had gone.

Harry spoke into the rapt silence, describing the castle and conditions he'd encountered and how he'd been treated by the Veelas he'd encountered. He admitted that some had misgivings and opposition to the treaty but praised the visionary nature of his father and also Fleur in recognising that the treaty was necessary to provide a counterweight to the Empire.

"Why should our brave Aurors fight and die for _them_?" Regulus spat.

"Because that's what allies _do_ ," Harry countered. "If we are attacked I would want a squadron of Veelas fighting alongside us. Their bravery, their power, their magic – they would be valuable allies to us in a time of war. Alliances are easy in peace-time; they are tested in times of war." He stared down the leader of the darker faction. "If war comes while I am there you can guarantee that I will stand alongside them, with or without any help this body may agree to commit. Some things are worth fighting for; the friendship of the Veelas and an alliance with them is certainly one such thing. Some things are worth fighting _against_ ; I think the Empire is one such thing. Can you say the same?" he challenged, drawing gasps from the chamber at the rather undiplomatic prose.

Both Potters (and also Frank and Barty) could see plenty of nods within the chamber; the gamble to have Harry speak to the body looked like it might pay off. Macnair was next to stand; he could also see which way the wind was blowing, and he didn't like it.

"I propose," he said in crisp tones, "that we leave the treaty to be read and considered for the recommended three week period before voting on 17th November. This would also give us time to further question the Minister on its content, on his vision for this _alliance_ ," he put as much disgust as he could into the word, "and to submit questions to the emissary for him to pass on to these creatures; we should see what they have to say on the matter as well before we make our informed decision."

Most of the chamber nodded their agreement again. Macnair and Black shared a smile. Three weeks _should_ give them enough time to turn the chamber to their way of thinking and oust Potter before sinking this treaty.

 _16 Peverell Road,_

 _Godric's Hollow_

"Hi you two," Lily greeted them; she'd left the Ministry while the meeting was still in progress and was waiting on the two male Potters returning from it. "Dinner will be ready in about five minutes. How did it go?"

"It was ok," James sighed, wearily. "We were losing a lot of them until Harry spoke. Thanks to what he said… we may have a chance."

The Potters enjoyed a rare family meal together before the evening was spent catching up on more of what had been going on while relaxing in front of the television (something James had grown to love since Lily introduced him to its wonders).

"So what are you doing tomorrow?" James asked his son.

"After breakfast I think I'll head for Hogwarts, see the twins and some of the old teachers. Afternoon Neville and I are going to see Ilkley Imps play Quidditch; he's dating their seeker," he added for his parents' benefit.

"Isn't that the team Ron Weasley plays for?" Lily asked.

" _Played_ ," James clarified. "He was sacked after attacking Neville in a London pub a few weeks ago."

Harry shook his head at this news, and event. "I go away for a couple of weeks…" he muttered.

 _Headmistress's Private Quarters,_

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,_

 _Alnwick, Northumberland_

 _Saturday, 25_ _th_ _October 2003_

"Minerva!" The Headmistress heard the call from the portrait behind her. She set her quill down and turned to face its occupant, pleased for an excuse for a break from the paperwork she had to deal with. She briefly asked herself how she'd coped in the past; Minister Potter's reforms had reduced the amount of drivel sent back and forth between the school and the Ministry but it still took up, in her opinion, far too much of her time, hence trying to catch up on a Saturday morning (despite being Headmistress she still taught a few classes per week, NEWT-level Transfiguration).

"Yes, Armando, what is it?"

"There's a gentleman trying to floo call your office. Obviously he's unable to get much of a reply."

Minerva McGonagall sighed and stood. "Do you know who it is?" The portrait of the former Headmaster shrugged and confessed that he didn't.

McGonagall made the short walk from her private rooms to her office and headed for the fireplace. "Hello?" she called.

"Headmistress!" She recognised the voice without his elaboration. "It's Harry Potter. I was wondering if I could come through for a visit?"

"Certainly," she agreed, happy to see one of her former students, particularly now he was causing trouble for somebody else. The fireplace flared and the young man strode confidently out of it, a smile on his face and his hand outstretched.

"Headmistress, it's good to see you," he observed as she took his hand and shook it.

"Please, it's Minerva," she insisted before giving him a sly look. "Otherwise I shall have to call you Ambassador, Ambassador Potter."

"You heard?" he asked in surprise.

"Your parents are _very_ proud of you and what you've achieved there," she replied, "though they _did_ insist on secrecy while the Minister tries to get the treaty ratified."

"So the girls don't know?" he guessed; his former Head of House chuckled.

"One thing I'll never be able to change here is how the school leaks information like a sieve; if they knew then the whole school would, word would get back to parents, to the Wizengamot…"

"And it's better coming from the Minister," Harry finished for her. "Well they all know now, after yesterday's session, so I suppose it's safe to tell your chief twin trouble makers." He shot her a smirk. "Will they be out of detention long enough for me to have lunch with them today?"

"Contrary to what you think, Harry," she retorted, "your sisters are remarkably good at _avoiding_ trouble. Not unlike you and Mr Longbottom were at their age."

"You mean you _know_ it's them but you can't prove it?" he asked innocently; she grimaced.

"As I say, like you and Neville, like the Weasley twins, like your father and his little cohort – especially Sirius Black."

"Well, someone has to keep your life interesting," he grinned; Minerva just grumbled under her breath.

"I'm afraid I have paperwork to do so I shall leave you to find your sisters," she opened the door for him. "I shall see you at lunch?" He nodded and left the office. "Harry?" she called as he reached the top of the staircase; he looked back. "I'm proud of you and what you've achieved."

Harry was genuinely moved by the praise from the strict teacher. "Thank you," he humbly accepted her words. She gave him a small smile and closed the door, leaving him to head downstairs; he wasn't remotely surprised to see two spells fire at him from opposite directions as he passed the gargoyle guardian. Not wearing his charmed robes (though his glasses _were_ still shielded) he pressed himself against the wall and raised a shield charm which deflected the next two harmlessly.

"Nice try you two, now stop it!" he demanded.

"What will you do if we don't?"

"Tell mum when I see her tonight."

"You don't play fair," Heather Potter complained as she trudged into view. From the corner of Harry's eye he saw her twin sister Rose slouch into the open and turned to the older of the girls.

"Rosemary Veronica Potter," he chastised in mock-stern tones, "firing curses in the corridor; that's not Head Girl behaviour."

"When you know it's clear so you don't get caught, and it's only your brother you're attacking, then it's fine." She waved the _Marauder's Map_ at him. "See, nobody else need ever know."

Harry's face broke into a grin. "I've taught you well," he laughed; he lowered his shield and pulled her into a hug, spinning her around to put her body between him and their sister; Heather lowered her wand with a disappointed look, causing Harry to wink at her and mouth " _nice try_ ".

"So how have you been?" she asked when he released the Head Girl; Harry took an arm of each sibling and they walked through the school.

"Really well. Did you know dad sent me on a foreign mission?"

"No," Rose gaped, surprised that their parents had kept it from them.

"Well it was rather hush hush but suffice it to say – mission complete," he smiled. "I made contact with a group of Veela and agreed a deal where we work together against this new Empire to the east."

"We know all about _that_ ," Heather commented darkly. "The Slytherins are full of it, practically salivating at the prospect of them taking over the British Ministry. They've made no end of threats about what they'll do to dad – and _especially_ mum, and the other first-gens – if it happens."

"Followed by those same Slytherins always seeming to wind up in the Infirmary," Rose added with a grin. "You'd think they'd learn but no."

"We always called them the _stupid Slytherins_ ," Harry commented, causing his sisters to giggle in unison. "I can see the current batch is no better."

"Should we be worried?" Rose turned serious. "I mean, about this Empire?"

Harry sighed; he wasn't about to lie to his siblings though. "If they take over, yes," he replied bluntly, much to the girls' surprise. "Anyone who isn't a Pureblood and stickler to their values should worry. For now though, we need to trust that dad has it in hand and hope for the best rather than worrying about the worst."

They'd left the castle by this time and were headed for the Quidditch pitch; Harry could see the blue-clad players flying around as Ravenclaw practiced and he stopped to watch, causing the twins to roll their eyes in perfect synchronicity – unlike their father and brother they didn't care for the sport.

"Who has the best team this year?" he asked; both girls pulled a face.

"You're asking us?" Heather laughed.

"I really should have known better," he conceded.

The three Potters spent an enjoyable morning catching up before heading to the Great Hall for lunch.

"Harry!" The twins giggled as their brother was intercepted by the Head of Slytherin House, Professor Horace Slughorn. "It's so good to see you again."

"Good to see you too, Horace," he replied civilly.

"You must come to one of my little get-togethers. You two as well," he called at the twins as they tried to escape. "It's been far too long and I'm sure someone in your position has plenty that they could pass on to our club's current membership."

"I shall try, if I'm in the country for any of them," Harry replied awkwardly; he didn't really _want_ to attend any of Sluggy's soirees but felt he owed it to the current students to try and give them a leg-up, _especially_ those who could be useful allies to his father's government. "My job, though, keeps me abroad a lot."

"Any excuse," Rose teased in a quiet voice as Slughorn headed for the staff table.

"What's yours?" he shot back with a grin.

"I put half his house in the Infirmary; it's not like I'm not _trying_ to get uninvited!" she complained.

"Well with Sluggy it's always been who-you-know not what-you-do, at school anyway."

* * *

"Well, it's been fun, girls, but I need to head off," he said regretfully, once the lunch dishes began to disappear. "I'm catching up with Nev this afternoon, then meeting his _girlfriend_." As expected this got a reaction from the girls, and forced him to make a promise to write to them, letting them know all the pertinent information about her. He spoke to McGonagall as she was preparing to leave the Hall; she led him back to her office and he flooed from there to the Longbottom home.

 _Longbottom Manor,_

 _Horsforth, West Yorkshire_

"Harry, so good to see you!" Alice Longbottom greeted her godson.

"Hi Aunt Alice, how are you?" he asked her, smiling broadly at the woman. He spotted her husband and extended his hand. "Deputy Minister," he greeted him formally; Frank shook his head and took his turn in hugging the newcomer. "Hi Uncle Frank," Harry then greeted him, causing the man to laugh.

"James said you were back and would be coming by," Frank observed as he let Harry go. "Neville says you're going to see Jennifer play Quidditch today?"

Harry nodded. "I called in at Hogwarts this morning to see the girls and Minerva," he revealed, "now I get to meet Neville's girlfriend."

"Will we see you again while you're here?" Alice asked; Harry shrugged.

"I'm not sure how much time I'll have. We're having Sirius and Remus over for lunch tomorrow, beyond that I haven't made any plans."

"Well hopefully we'll see you soon," his godmother noted. By this time Neville had arrived.

"Ready Harry?" he asked; his friend nodded and the two apparated to the stadium.

 _Imps Stadium,_

 _Ilkley_

"Good seats," Harry commended as they reached the top of the main stand.

"I have a good contact in the organisation," Neville laughed.

"I still can't believe _you_ have a _girlfriend_ ," Harry nudged him with his elbow. "What happened to playing the field?"

"I met the right girl – at least I _think_ I have," he confided.

"Damn, does that mean I can't embarrass you in front of her?"

"Please don't," Neville urged, then he brightened. "We're planning on going out after the game though; there's nothing to stop _you_ picking someone up."

Harry paused and shrugged; suddenly the idea wasn't too appealing to him. "I think I'll pass," he replied, to Neville's surprise. With bravado he added, "After spending the last few weeks surrounded by Veela I'm not sure many witched would measure up." His mind, though, was drawn not to the Veela Queen, nor to Danielle, but to the alluring servant, Gabrielle, who he'd spent so much time around. _If only she wasn't a servant_ , he mentally shook his head with regret.

* * *

The game was unusually short; with their regular keeper still out injured, the Imps again worked on keeping the Quaffle away from their back-up and holding onto possession for as long as they could (they failed to score, this time they did not even take one shot on the hoops, focussing totally on keeping the larger ball and passing it between their chasers, but their tactics limited the Batley Bowtruckles to just ten shots themselves (four of which they scored) before, to Neville's delight, his girlfriend caught the snitch, handing victory to the Ilkley side.

"Not the most entertaining tactics ever," Neville conceded as they headed for the club bar while the bulk of the sparse crowd headed for the floos and apparition points, "but a win is a win."

"I wasn't watching the chasers," Harry admitted. "I was focussed on the two seekers; your girl did well but she was lucky her opponent was so poor. I saw the snitch fly right behind her twice and she never noticed it. If she'd caught it then the game plan would have been for naught really."

Neville could only nod; despite keeping most of his attention on Jen he hadn't seen much of the snitch; he put his friend being able to follow it down to what they'd dubbed Harry's "seeker sight" while they'd been in school.

"I'd forgotten how good this stuff was," Harry commented after his first sip of butterbeer. "It's not something that's been available at meal times and I've not come across a pub or bar per se there," he elaborated; Neville nodded his understanding.

The two lads drained their first drinks while catching up with what had been going on in their lives during Harry's trip to find the Veelas; finally the talk was interrupted by Neville smiling broadly at a point over Harry's shoulder. The black-haired diplomat turned to see what the Auror was staring at and took in the visage of a pretty girl who looked vaguely familiar to him. Her shoulder-length light brown hair was still damp and tied back to keep it under control and, like Harry and a number of the patrons, she wore muggle clothing, rather than the robes that some of the people in the room (including Neville) preferred.

"Harry, this is my girlfriend Jennifer Hetherington. Jen, this is my best friend and closest thing I have to a brother, Harry Potter," the sandy-haired Auror introduced them.

"Delighted to meet you," Harry's eyes glinted mischievously as he took the girl's hand, shaking it before kissing it. "The girl who tamed old Longbum here. How did you manage it?"

Neville rolled his eyes. "Harry, you haven't called me that since we were twelve," he griped.

"No, but it's still fun," he countered. "Though admittedly not as funny as I found it when we were six."

Neville shook his head while Jen wore a wide grin. The barman set two new butterbeers down on the counter by them; Harry quickly asked him for a third and handed his own to the girl.

"Thank you," she smiled, before observing, "you weren't this much of a gentleman at school."

Harry stared at her for a few seconds more. "You were a Gryffindor a few years ahead of us," he realised. "You were the seeker in our first two years of school!"

Jen nodded, smiling as he remembered her. "I quit the team for my seventh year; I told myself it was to have more time for my NEWTs – but the truth was you were a _way_ better seeker than me and I wouldn't have made the team that year anyway; I could see it in second year when you were reserve. I was only still on the team _that_ year because I was captain."

"You were a good seeker – still are," he added hurriedly, causing the girl to laugh.

"Thanks but even then you were better," she conceded generously. "Good yes, great?" she shook her head. "This is my level."

"A higher level than _I_ play at," Harry observed. "Anyway," he smiled, "on a brighter note – what attracted you to Nev here? I've known him for _years_ and have still yet to come up with anything," he joked; Neville groaned and Jen made a show of thinking it over.

"Are you done embarrassing me in front of my girlfriend?" he asked in hope after they'd shared a laugh.

"Of course not, not even close," Harry returned, shooting a glance at Jen, who appeared thoroughly amused with the boys' interplay. "C'mon Nev, what else are little brothers for?" he asked mockingly, using the same words he'd used in front of Hermione during their first meeting with her on the Hogwarts Express all those years before; while Miss Granger had seemed exasperated at their immaturity (though simultaneously she'd been extremely impressed by Harry's effortless silent and wandless magic) Jen seemed amused by her boyfriend's annoyance, though this claim had her confused.

"He's one day younger than me," Neville explained. " _One day_. And I've had no peace ever since he was born," he complained.

"You two are close then?" she fished. "Of course I remember you at school but outside of Quidditch I didn't know either of you too well then, being in a different year group."

"We're…" Harry looked at Neville. "Godbrothers? I guess; anyway his mum is my godmother."

"And his is mine," Neville added. "Our parents were close friends, our fathers work together, have done for years. We practically grew up together both at Hogwarts and before – though thankfully I spent enough time up north to be spared that horrendous West Country accent he's ended up with." The two Tykes shared a grin while Harry made a great show of looking affronted. "And in all that time he's never stopped being a pain in the arse for me," he shot a look at the now-smirking Harry.

* * *

"So what did you two have planned for the evening?" Harry asked when a few more butterbeers had been consumed and the bar was virtually empty.

The couple exchanged looks. "Uh, probably go for a meal somewhere?" Neville suggested. "I hadn't really thought about it."

"He puts _that_ much effort into your dates," Harry grinned. "Definitely a keeper!"

"He has other talents that make it worth hanging onto him," Jennifer chuckled.

"Ok," Harry replied awkwardly. "On that night I'll leave you to your evening; don't want to get in the way."

"Oh, you don't have to…" she began but he shook his head.

"I've been out of the country for a few weeks; I should spend some time with my parents." He stood. "Nev," the Auror stood and the two hugged. "I'll see you on Monday before I go back. Jennifer," she surprised him by pulling him into a hug. "I'm sure I'll see you again soon."

He left the bar and found a floo. "16 _Peverell Road, Godrics Hollow_!" he dropped some powder into the fire and vanished.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading. PD  
**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London_

 _Monday, 27_ _th_ _October 2003_

"Do be careful, Harry," Lily was fighting back the tears as she said goodbye to her son again.

"You know I will, mum," he smiled at her; he'd spent most of the day at the Ministry, getting the charms on his robes recharged and discussing some ideas with Luna and Hermione. "And you know, now that we have the permanent connection between here and there, we can floo call regularly and I can come home almost at the drop of a hat."

"You make sure we hear from you regularly then, young man," she urged him.

"Dad," he turned to James; the Minister was smiling at him.

"No need to say goodbye yet, Harry; I'm going with you."

"Really?" Both Harry and Lily were surprised at this.

"With the way things are going I want to speak to the Queen in person about… the situation here, what might arise and what I would do about it."

The fire roared and the two male Potters stepped into it, Harry dragging his luggage in as well; a hesitant Lily followed, a little to her husband's surprise, though he said nothing about it, merely reaching out of the fireplace and casting a locking charm on the office door.

"Le Chateau Delacour," Harry called and the three vanished.

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

"Ambassador!" Fleur greeted him; her eyes widened when he saw the other two Potters were with him. The Potter parents' jaws dropped when they saw the queen dressed in her usual manner, rather than the more conservative robes she'd worn for the signing ceremony. "Excuse me," she apologised, pulling her outer robe closed for their benefit, "I did not know that you were coming, Minister, Assistant to the Minister."

As she spoke in French, James was unable to understand what she'd said; Lily knew enough to get the gist of the monarch's apology and Harry hurriedly filled his dad in on what Fleur was saying.

"Well," James floundered; he cleared his throat while studying the floor. "No harm done." Lily, meanwhile, was giving her son a searching look given his lack of a reaction.

"It's traditional in Veela culture," he explained to them, "given that their race is renowned for their beauty, and they have their allure that they can use if they want – potentially as a weapon but usually for… uh for other reasons," he blushed, not enjoying having this sort of conversation with his mum and dad; fortunately they were looking to learn from him rather than passing judgement in any way, "it's become a symbol of the Queenhood; that her body and her beauty is… well _worshiped_ is perhaps too strong a word given she's around her subjects but…"

"It's ok, we get the picture," James smiled, coming to his son's rescue. "Now, if you'd be so good as to act as a translator for me, I'd like to speak to the Queen."

Harry turned to the blonde monarch. "Your Majesty, my Minister wishes to discuss certain affairs of state with you."

"Certainly," Fleur nodded, instantly adopting a business-like posture and taking a seat behind her desk; she gestured to the chairs in front of her. James and Lily sat; Harry conjured an extra chair and sat next to his father.

"A vote is coming soon regarding our wider government approving the treaty between us," James began; Fleur nodded as Harry translated. "There is a real chance that we will lose the vote." She gasped. "My sources within one of our factions tells me that there is also a chance that a move will be made to remove me as Minister _before_ the vote can even take place." This time it took Harry a few moments to translate; this was news to him as well. Lily wrapped an arm around her husband's shoulder to support him. "Either event would likely bring down my government – and my final act as Minister would be to recall Harry." She nodded. "At that time I would recommend that you lock down the floo for your own safety and return to a state of isolation; it will be evident that Bristish, and by extension European, Magical society is not ready to accept your people and my successor would certainly not be in favour of pursuing friendship with your people."

Fleur frowned; having made the decision to accept an envoy, work for a deal and having experienced having a foreigner (and a male at that) living among them, she was reluctant to give up all the progress that they had made towards Veela fully rejoining the Magical world.

"Is there anything I can do to help? Address your government, perhaps?"

James thought for a few moments. "An official visit would be a good idea once the treaty is ratified," he agreed, "showing you and your people for who you really are, rather than the perceptions many magicals have; it could also help to build relations with our governing body. For now, though, it would be likely to do more harm than good, given that the anti-Veela attitudes many hold are rather entrenched."

"I understand," she nodded reluctantly. "Please let me know if there is anything we can do to help."

Discussions completed, James and Lily headed back to the floo and, with a last hug of their son, returned to Britain.

"That was uncomfortable for them," Fleur commented, albeit with a grin, once she and Harry were alone (apart from her ever-present guards).

"Yes, I don't think they were expecting to see _that much_ of you," Harry chuckled.

"A little warning that we have company would help in future."

"I didn't know myself that they were accompanying me until right as I was ready to leave," he apologised.

She eyed his luggage. "Do you need assistance taking these to your new quarters."

He shook his head before processing the unexpected word. "New quarters?" he asked; he had assumed he would be returning to the rooms he had occupied thus far.

"Of course," she nodded. "You are now an Ambassador to our nation rather than merely an envoy; you deserve a suite that is worthy of your title."

"It's unnecessary…" he began.

"To me, to _our nation_ , it is necessary," she countered; he nodded his acceptance and thanked her.

"I will have someone show you to your quarters," she nodded to one of her guards, who left the room, returning with Gabrielle soon afterwards; she smiled at the Queen, who limited herself to a slight nod, both of which went unseen by Harry, as he was busy gathering his things together.

"If you will follow me, Ambassador," the young Veela invited him; he bowed to Fleur and followed Gabbi out of the room.

* * *

"Do you need anything else from me today Ambassador?" Gabbi asked once he had entered the room. "A massage, perhaps?" she offered; he shook his head.

"Not today, thank you; I just need to unpack and get acquainted with the suite for now. Some other day perhaps if the offer stays open?"

She gave a smile and nod before bowing out of the room.

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

 _Tuesday, 28_ _th_ _October 2003_

"Hello Prongs," Remus looked around the door; James looked up, smiling.

"Moony!" he greeted his old friend; they had decided to leave 'shop' talk off the table during their lunch at the weekend for the most part so he had yet to fully debrief his envoy to the werewolves; all he knew was that the news was positive.

"As I mentioned on Sunday, it was good news, mostly, from France," his fellow Marauder remarked. "Most that I spoke to were only too happy to accept your generous offer of the potion every month and the promise of rejoining mainstream society, rather than being marginalised. Working, having families; that's what they want and it's something they see you offering them." He hesitated. "Prongs, I also heard news from Eastern Europe; the Empire is expanding, they've taken over _a lot_ of countries – Transylvania, Poland, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Hungary; all fallen to them in recent weeks. The Germans are said to be worried about a possible invasion."

James nodded, though he was rather surprised at just how rapidly this new power had grown; he was also a little surprised to have not heard anything from the German Ambassador – while the two countries weren't _that_ close, they _did_ have a working relationship and thought they'd have at least sounded out getting British support if they thought an attack was imminent.

"There is some good news – perhaps," he continued. "There's talk of some insurgencies and uprisings being planned; obviously the exact details are being kept quiet but hopefully they can at least slow Karkaroff and his cohorts down a bit, force them to consolidate and defend rather than continuing to expand. Anyway, here," Remus handed him a list, "are the people we _know_ of in France – and one in Germany – who want the potion; the German, Gerhard, could do with a triple dose as he said he would be sharing the stuff I gave him with his friends. We also expect the list to grow as word spreads – _especially_ if we can find some of these people jobs."

"I'll get on to the supplier," the Minister promised. "I'll also arrange a meeting with the French Ambassador; they'd need to be involved in employing these people – and it wouldn't do to upset them _again_ over this," he grinned.

"No, I could do without being a 'guest' of the French Aurors again," Moony agreed.

 _Malfoy Manor,_

 _Swindon_

"Excellent news," Lucius declared to his assembly. "I have a meeting with Oblansk in Sofia on Thursday evening; I will give him the samples Draco got from the Weasel twins," he gestured his glass towards his son, who was standing unobtrusively in the corner of the room; the youngest Malfoy was happy just to be involved in this gathering. "This will curry favour with the Emperor for our faction. Once we have eliminated Potter our path will be clear." He turned to his spy. "Pettigrew, what news from our soon-to-be-former Minister?"

"Lupin returned with news from France," he ignored the sniggers from the gathering at their description of James. "Apparently many werewolves were receptive to his offer. They could well be lost to the Empire, having been offered friendship by Britain. The French Ministry are discussing taking over the distribution and the whole programme, if it's proven to work."

"An extension of werewolf rights would be most unwelcome," Macnair declared; the others nodded their agreement.

"So, how do we sabotage this programme?" Wormtail asked.

"We have a… sympathiser inside the country's leading potion maker. We need to induce him to sabotage a batch. Not immediately; they'll be on their guard right now, but in a few months we can make our move," Lucius schemed. "And once the potion has failed and they are returned to their status as dangerous creatures, the Empire will be the only place they can turn, promising them revenge on the society that has shunned them."

Peter joined in the laughter and agreement of the plan, though behind his smile the gears were turning in his mind; this was certainly something James and Remus needed to know about.

"What of Potter's treaty with the Veelas?" Regulus asked; Peter frowned.

"He has meetings scheduled with some of the undecideds; he hopes to persuade them to vote in favour of the treaty."

"We, also, hope to persuade them," Black retorted. "Do you have names of those he is meeting?"

Wormtail shook his head. "I know Goldstein is the leader of the group he is meeting with; I don't know who else or even how many will be there though."

"Goldstein is a start; I know those of similar mind to him. He is well liked and his opinion means a lot to many members. I shall have to make my own approach." He nodded to the rat and withdrew from the conversation as he began to plan his charm offensive.

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

Harry kicked off hard from the ground. It was good to feel the wind in his hair again as he flew for the first time in several weeks. He frowned as the sky ahead of him took on a greenish hue; from the corner of his eye he could see clear, blue sky to the side of him but ahead of him the air was turning yellow then through orange it became blood red and finally black, opaque and almost solid-looking. He turned his Firebolt and saw the blackness following him; ahead he could still see some sky on the spectrum from red to green. He turned back towards the castle and past it in the other direction, only to encounter the same phenomenon.

Looking down he saw some smallish fields; dotted around them he could see a Veela working amongst the vegetation; a couple of the women waved at him and he waved back, swooping lower and braking, ultimately to a near halt as he approached them.

"Nice broomstick, Ambassador," he was complemented.

"Thank you," he nodded before enquiring as to the strange effect he'd encountered.

"Oh, that marks the boundary of the enclave," she explained. "We have four gates around the perimeter, each of which is guarded at all times, where the charms can be broken to allow us to come and go if we wish to."

"For example when we visit the villages by the lake," another supplied; it appeared to Harry that there was anticipation and relish in her voice at the thought.

"That _can_ be a reason," the other confirmed. "Had you tried to leave you would have succeeded. However you would not have been able to return without passing through one of the gates or portals."

"The portal was how I arrived the first time," Harry nodded.

"Yes, they are preferred. Mostly for visiting the villages we will use them, simply because they take us a lot closer to the settlements, but we _could_ use the gates."

Harry chatted with the Veelas a little longer before resuming his flight.

 _Abercrombie's Potions & Medicines,_

 _Solihull, West Midlands,_

 _Wednesday, 29_ _th_ _October 2003_

The potion master wiped a hand over his sweaty forehead; he stepped out of the room and took a breath of fresh air while his concoctions simmered away merrily.

"Ah, Severus." Cygnus Abercrombie, the owner of the company, spied his star employee and approached him. "Excellent news. The Minister has just placed a large order for Wolfsbane potion. It's needed by next full moon so I'm going to have to pull you off your other projects to make this full time between now and then."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I know the Ministry contract is important but switching potion master midway through a brewing could be… troublesome."

"Most are following established recipes, even if they _are_ of your own discovery," abercrombie conceded. "Of course your research projects need to remain with you. I trust you'll still have sufficient time to work on them around the Wolfsbane though?"

"I will."

"Oh and it's not the Ministry contract; it's a new one, separate from the regular monthly order and personally paid for by Minister Potter himself."

 _Potter_. That one word was always guaranteed to get Snape's hackles up. Snape silently lamented that he would have to make these, like all his other batches, absolutely perfect, even if they _were_ for his childhood nemesis. It was the reason he was no longer an invitee to Lucius Malfoy's home; Malfoy had urged him to sabotage the potion, to destroy its effectiveness and thus unleash the werewolves on magical Britain, destroying Potter's flagship policy of integrating them. He had refused, knowing that the company would be sued (and probably him personally, or worse he could be arrested for endangering the public) if he did so. Even if he wasn't sued he would be fired and never work in the potions industry again, hence his rejection of Malfoy's overtures. He cursed the name of Abercrombie's grandfather, a muggle with intimate knowledge of how business worked in the non-magical world; his daughter had inherited not only the money to allow her husband to found the business, which he now entrusted their son, but also plenty of business acumen, hence the willingness to fire, name and shame anyone who screwed up a major potion order – especially if they could prove it was deliberate.

"This is a _major_ order, Severus, from what I've been told it's potentially even _bigger_ than the monthly Ministry order if all goes well. We can't afford _any_ mistakes with it." Abercrombie left Snape alone with his regrets.

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London_

 _Thursday, 30_ _th_ _October 2003_

"Ambassador, thank you for meeting me," James shook the Frenchman's hand.

"Always a pleasure, Minister," M Dubois replied with a smile, "although I must confess that it is far from pleasurable for _my_ Minister at the moment. And once again she feels that _you_ are the cause of her problems."

"Really?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Word of your altruism has reached our governing body. They have overruled her objections and agreed with your plan to provide free Wolfsbane to any of France's werewolves who request it." James smiled, feeling elation at the progress being made. "They would like you to pay for the first three months while the situation is analysed; if the scheme is a success the government would take it over at that time."

James nodded; three months' supply of Wolfsbane would be expensive but the Potters were wealthy enough and their Ministry income was supplemented by their share of profits from the Department of Magical Research. With the DMLE likely to mandate Auror robes carrying the shield charms soon, now that their effectiveness was proven, his share of that contract should cover the cost of the potion on its own.

"If you agree to it, the chamber is likely to afford you a vote of thanks, with or without the Minister's approval. However, the news is not all good," the Frenchman continued, "I think that until these three months are up it is unlikely that paid work will be readily available to them; also those who refuse the potion will risk being hunted and killed – a kill-on-sight ruling for werewolves running wild at full moon was added to the proposal in order to give it enough support to pass."

"That's less welcome news," James frowned, "while I can understand them wanting to see how the scheme works before affording them full rights, to actively hunt them if they don't take the potion… we must hope our lycanthrope friends accept the Wolfsbane and are thus allowed back into society over time. On the subject," he pulled out the list Remus had drawn up for him; a quick duplication charm saw him hand one to his guest, "these are the people we know of who wish to receive the potion."

"Thank you; their integration back into society is my hope as well – and that of our governing body. It is _not_ the hope of the Minister though. We must hope she is persuaded by seeing the scheme in action." He shook his head ruefully, as he was sceptical of her being persuaded. "Anyway, speaking of groups you are courting that my Minister dislikes," his eyes glinted mischievously, "how goes your dream of finding and talking to Veelas?" he asked.

"Very well, thank you. We signed a treaty with them." The French Ambassador was shocked by this news. "I need to persuade the Wizengamot to ratify it but the talks themselves went well. Speaking of which," he glanced at his watch, "I have a meeting in one hour with one of the wavering factions."

"Then I wish you luck, Minister." He stood and they shook hands. "Friendships are more important than ever in these times."

"I am glad of yours and your country's, Ambassador," James returned.

"Maybe one day you will have our Minister's too," he replied candidly. "Though I will, of course, deny ever having said that if asked," he added with a smile.

 _Courtroom 7_

While James was meeting with the French, the people he was hoping to win over had a meeting of their own; Regulus Black was speaking with some of the Wizengamot and trying to gauge the political weather.

"So, would you support me if I moved against Potter?" he asked Sebastian Goldstein.

"To vote to depose a sitting Minister is a big move," he replied gravely. "It is unheard of in recent times."

"True," Black conceded, "but no recent Minister has tried reaching out to creatures like Veelas and werewolves and risked endangering our society. You heard him and his son in the chamber – they believe our Aurors' lives are worth sacrificing to keep these creatures safe. They would pit wizard against wizard for these half-breeds." He was enthused by the number of nods he could see in the room.

"You do know," a voice called quietly from the back of the room, "that half-breed is a misnomer when dealing with werewolves. My own grandfather was bitten by one of these; my father tells of how the wonderful, loving man he'd grown up with died that day, became withdrawn and gaunt overnight. Ultimately he wasted away and died and, had my father not been of age, my family would have lost their fortune. I'm sure if my father was alive today he would be sat here, not me, telling of how fantastic and far-sighted Potter's initiative is and how he wished it had been available years earlier so his father would have been able to continue being the man he was – or perhaps never being bitten in the first place."

The intervention silenced the room; Regulus was forced to recalculate. "It still does not justify him wanting our Aurors to die to save a few Veela lives."

"But to protect us from the Empire…" one member began.

"Why do we _need_ their protection?" Black countered. "We live on an island; the water is our protection. Negotiation can be our protection. We do not need to commit British lives to fight against them."

Regulus decided to leave on that note; the werewolf argument had been unexpected and risked turning the room against him, but he could see seeds of agreement had been sown regarding the Veela treaty. As he thanked them and walked out of the room he felt fairly confident that he was at least close to having the numbers he would need for his challenge to be a success.

* * *

"Minister, Deputy Minister," Goldstein greeted the duo. "We are honoured by the presence of you both; we weren't expecting Mr Longbottom as well."

"I felt it advisable," the Deputy explained frankly. "Given the claims and arguments that are being made; I thought the insight of a former Auror, who is also the _father_ of an Auror, would be of some value to the discussion."

"And what _do_ you think of the Minister offering your son and his friends up as sacrifices?" he was challenged.

Longbottom took a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts. "I think, sir, that that description is deeply flawed. They would not be _sacrifices_ , they would be standing shoulder-to-shoulder alongside an ally and against a force that threatens the way of life we _all_ hold dear and the future we are building. Can you dispute that things have improved remarkably in our world since Chief Warlock Crouch began his term as Minister?" The group mumbled; the magical world was certainly modernising and new ideas and technologies "borrowed" from the non-magical world (not that the die-hard blood purists would be able to recognise them as such, given their ignorance of that world) had improved day-to-day life of most wizards. Many were concerned, though, about the shift to meritocracy, fearing that jobs and status that had always belonged to the old families might one day be available to all – something that many in this group were unprepared for, though their children seemed a little more open-minded as McGonagall was also hauling her school into more modern times. "Our world is changing and we need to adapt to those changes. We see the Ministry and Hogwarts adapting and that flexibility will be needed when Emperor Karkaroff sets his sights on our lands…"

"Do you _really_ think he'll launch an attack here?" one member interrupted; Frank silenced him with a glare.

"Yes I do," he replied through gritted teeth. "And once he has taken the mainland of Europe there will be nothing to stop him focussing _all_ his troops on our shores. As I was saying before I was interrupted, as the Empire _will_ look to take over Britain we have two choices – surrender or stop them. What will happen to the Wizengamot if the Empire takes over?" He directed the last question to Goldstein.

"It will either be abolished or become a body full of his puppets," he conceded.

"Precisely. I will never be a puppet for what they believe in and I'm sure none of you would either," he challenged; nobody replied so he continued, "so we have to fight at some point. I would rather fight alongside our allies than wait until everyone else if defeated and then realise there's nobody left to help us. I would be more than happy – terrified, don't get me wrong, but happy and proud to see Neville fighting alongside them for what we _all_ believe in."

The questioning continued but James and Frank left the room feeling that they could not have done more to persuade the faction to support them – and that the feeling they were leaving behind was of an uneasy acceptance that the Empire was a worse option than friendship with the Veelas.

 _Bulgarian Ministry of Magic,_

 _Sofia, Bulgaria_

"Malfoy!" Oblansk greeted him coolly, not even bothering to rise and offer the Briton a handshanke.

"I have excellent news," the blond aristocrat informed him, appearing unconcerned at the lack of hospitality, though inwardly seething and vowing retribution in time. "I have something your master will certainly want to see."

The Bulgarian glowered at the description of Karkaroff as his master (he preferred the term 'line manager'). "What is it?"

Lucius held up one of the sets of robes. "Try firing a stunner at this," he challenged; the red beam flew from Oblansk's wand, bounced off the charmed item and struck his guard. The Bulgarian Minister hastily revived him before turning to Malfoy; the enervation of his guard gave him time to hide how impressed he was with what he'd seen.

"Something like that could certainly be of interest to the Emperor and his army," he conceded.

"I can ensure that robes like these are available to them," Malfoy promised. "These are just samples and will only deflect one or two curses but the real things… I hear they've even been tested in battle," he exaggerated, having heard the tale of Harry's encounter with courtiers opposed to his presence.

"This is certainly something Karkaroff would like to hear of."

"When can we meet him?"

Oblansk frowned at the man's audacity. "I will arrange a meeting as soon as possible. Leave the robes," he demanded as Malfoy stooped to gather them. "I shall speak to Karkaroff and be sure to tell him of Britain's part in it," he promised.

"I shall take them with me," Malfoy countered. "You can have this set, since the charm may well have expired," he tossed the set Oblansk had fired at onto the Minister's desk. As he held the others in front of him neither of the Bulgarians in the room were willing to risk firing curses at him.

"I shall contact you when the meeting is set up," Oblansk growled; Malfoy left with his smirk intact.

 _Department of Magical Law Enforcement,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

Neville yawned as he studied the parchment; Amelia Bones sat next to him with the Weasley twins and Hermione stood behind them watching. All started as the writing on the parchment changed abruptly.

"The charmed robes are now 1,250 miles to the south east. That puts them in Sofia, Bulgaria, just as we thought," Neville declared with satisfaction. When Bones looked at him he elaborated, "We heard that Lucius Malfoy was going to take them to his contact within the Empire, that that contact was the Bulgarian Minister so I looked up the distance between us and Sofia."

Bones threw some powder into the fire. "International Travel Regulation Department," she barked.

"Hello?" A small voice came back; as it was evening a junior department member was on duty for the night shift.

"Can you tell me what international travel has occurred tonight?" she demanded.

"Um…" the junior scampered off to consult the department records. "We… we have a record of a floo departure a few minutes ago from Swindon to… Sofia," all could hear the surprise in the youngster's voice at the discovery that someone had gone from Britain to territory controlled by the Empire, a body that was officially considered as a hostile area with travel advisories in place.

"Can you pin it down further?"

"At… at our end I think so, ma'am, not at the destination end; we don't have jurisdiction to look into the receiving country's records."

"Our end will be fine. Let us know once you complete your investigation."

A few minutes later it was confirmed; the departure took place from Malfoy Manor. Bones quickly floo called the Manor.

"Is this an official call, Madame Bones?" Narcissa Malfoy answered; to the senior law officer's eye she looked rather shifty.

"I was wondering if your husband was home," she asked casually.

"No, he's seeing to business tonight," Bones's Dictaquill was busily documenting the discussion.

"So you're alone tonight?"

"I'm having dinner with my son. Nobody else is here. What's this about?"

"Has anyone else been there today?"

"My husband had a meeting this morning but his associates left hours ago. Madame Bones, what is this about?"

"We had reports of some unusual activity in the vicinity of your Manor earlier so we were checking to see that everything was in order," she replied, massaging the truth a little. "You've been very helpful in assuring us that all is well. Thank you." She ended the call and Narcissa breathed a premature sigh of relief.

Bones picked up the Dictaquill, ending the recording of the conversation. "So we have two Malfoys there, one left, nobody else has been around – and the enchanted robes are in Imperial territory."

"Is that enough to nail him?" Neville asked.

"Not if the robes come back with him," Bones cautioned. "If he takes them and brings them back he can claim he wore them for his own defence, despite what Draco has told you in the past."

A few tense minutes later the parchment changed again. "One set stayed there," Neville declared, delight in his voice. "We've got them now, surely?"

Bones nodded. "This is going to need some co-ordination. Tomorrow we move against both Malfoys."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

 _Port of Aberdeen, Magical Prisoner Processing Annex_

 _Friday, 31_ _st_ _October 2003_

"Good morning sir," Neville greeted the manager as he entered his office.

"Auror, to what do I owe the pleasure?" David Higgs asked calmly; his anxiety ticked up as three more Aurors followed Neville into the room but he wasn't _too_ concerned, knowing that it was "understood" that nobody _really_ cared about him and his fellow shift managers supplementing their, and their team's, meagre salaries by receiving the odd bribe to release the occasional low-security prisoner early (and that the Auror Department had better things to do with its time than investigate another branch of the DMLE).

"Actually it's _Senior_ Auror," Neville corrected, "and you're under arrest."

The man's heart sank but he managed to don a surprised expression.

"Arrest? What for?" he blustered.

"Corruption," Neville replied. "You see, we have evidence that you accepted a bribe in exchange for the release of Ginny Weasley on…" he consulted his scroll, "the twenty-third of October two thousand and three."

Higgs continued to try and stutter a protest; Neville placed his palms on his desk and looked directly into his eye while the three other Aurors covered them with their wands. "Make no mistake, you're getting charged over this. Even if you somehow get out of this without a conviction, you're job here is done. The only way you return to this facility is as a prisoner."

"It was _one girl_ ," he argued, almost pleadingly; he knew perhaps better than anybody else on the planet what the effects of Azkaban were on a wizard. "The kid offered me the equivalent of three months of my salary! Even in my position the pay is piss poor – the guys out there get even less!" He gestured to the outer office. "What was I supposed to do when it's money our families really _needed_?"

Neville drew his wand. " _Incarcerous_ ," he declared; chains spewed forth and wrapped the now-trembling man. He drew a portkey from his robes, wanting to at least spare him the humiliation of being dragged in chains past his former subordinates. "Activate," he called and the two disappeared.

Lee Jordan was first to leave the office. "Mr Higgs is uh… unavailable for the foreseeable future. His deputy should take over for this shift and a more permanent solution will be arranged in time.

The stunned staff nodded and watched as he and the other two Aurors filed past them and out of the building before they disapparated.

 _The Burrow,_

 _Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon_

The identity of the visitor caused Molly to stop and stare; he was pretty much the last person she would ever have expected to appear on her doorstep.

"May I come in?" the blond asked eventually.

"Oh, yes, of course, where are my manners?" she chuckled weakly before stepping aside and opening the door wide to grant Draco entry.

"Uh, lovely place you've got here," he forced himself to say as he looked around; it took all he had to keep the sneer off his face and out of his voice.

He must have succeeded because Molly responded affably. "Thank you. It's not much, but it's home to us."

"I was hoping to take Ginny out for the day," he continued smoothly.

"The twins told me you were the one who paid for her to get out of _that place_ ," the matriarch choked. "I don't know _why_ you did but I can't thank you enough for doing it."

"Any time," he replied, this time smirking.

"Ginny!" The girl shuffled downstairs at the calling of her name. "Hopefully you can bring her out of her shell a bit; she's been so withdrawn since she came back."

Ginny spied Malfoy talking to her mother; she froze as she watched her fawning over Draco.

"Oh there you are," Draco spotted her. "I was hoping you'd spend the day with me," he added with a pointed look at her.

Her lip quivered but she could remember his threat; she nodded weakly and walked over to join them.

Molly missed this interplay; she was busily beaming at Draco and misinterpreting his actions as concern for Ginny's well-being.

"You two have a nice day," she urged them as Draco led Ginny out of the house.

"I'm sure we will," Draco returned before seizing the Weasley daughter's arm and leading her away from the Burrow.

"You know, you _are_ very pretty – for a Gryffindor," he commented before apparating them away.

 _Department of Magical Law Enforcement,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London_

"Team A, are you ready?" Amelia asked; Nymphadora Tonks and the other members of the group nodded grimly. All had their game faces on, knowing this was a _major_ operation.

"Team B?" Bones looked at Neville and his colleagues; this quartet nodded as well.

"Good work with the arrest this morning," she grudgingly praised them. "Are you ready to go again?" When they nodded she turned to the other Aurors in the room. "Team C? Team D?" The last two groups also nodded.

"Once you have the anti-apparition and anti-portkey protections in place we move," Bones repeated the strategy; everyone in the room nodded. "Off you go," she dismissed Teams C and D.

"We _do_ know they're all home, right?" Neville asked cautiously; his boss eyed him shrewdly.

"We had a report that Draco left his flat earlier this morning; he returned a few minutes ago. Ginny Weasley was with him."

"A curious pairing to say the least," Lee Jordan observed.

"Yes, it will be interesting to see how she fits into all of this," Neville agreed.

"She is not the primary target but if she tries to intervene then by all means, bring her in," Bones told them.

A few minutes later two Patroni appeared in the office; Teams C and D had completed their part of the job. The floos fired up as the Auror squads prepared to storm their targets.

 _Draco's flat,_

 _Whitechapel_

"I won't be here much longer," Draco declared confidently as he led Ginny through the flat. "Father is sure to pay for a more opulent place for me now I've helped him get an _in_ with the people that matter in the world. Oh, don't worry," he leered at her, "you'll still be coming round regularly when I've moved to my new place," he promised; she trembled at the prospect. "Now," he leered at her as they reached the flat's bedroom, "are we going to do this the easy way or the hard and painful way?"

Still trembling and head bowed, Ginny began to disrobe.

 _Malfoy Manor,_

 _Swindon, Wiltshire_

"Aurors! Put down your wands!" Amelia's cry rent the air as she leapt from the floo with her team, landing in the Malfoy's living room. Narcissa was there and spat out the sip of tea she'd just taken in the shock at the invasion.

"What are you doing in our home?" she demanded; she did, however, refrain from reaching for her wand.

"Mrs Malfoy, where is your husband?"

"He's in his study, why?" she asked.

"We have a warrant here for his arrest." Behind her the fire died in the fireplace.

"The floo is down, boss," one of the other Aurors noted.

"Excellent. Portkeys and apparition won't work either."

"Why have you imprisoned us in our home? And why do you want to arrest my husband?" Mrs Malfoy demanded, bringing conversation back to her.

"We have evidence of him giving Ministry secrets to a potentially hostile foreign power. I am certain he did not have permission from the Ministry to do so." Narcissa's heart sank at the implications; the sinking feeling intensified as Bones continued. "You should know, Mrs Malfoy, that your son is _also_ implicated in this. A separate team is at his home as we speak, arresting him."

"No," she whispered, trembling. "Not Draco!"

"What is all this noise?" Lucius demanded as he stormed into the room; his eyes widened as he saw the Auror force.

"Lucius Malfoy, you're under arrest on charges of High Treason," Bones declared formally.

"Treason?" Narcissa gasped while her husband grimaced. Seeing every wand trained on him and knowing he would never have time to reach for his own, or be able to run, he extended his hands.

Bones cast a few summoning charms, retrieving Lucius's wand, a wicked-looking knife he had concealed in his boot and a couple of other weapons. While they couldn't be confiscated, as he was carrying them inside his home, they were set aside before he was cuffed and led to the floo. A spell from Bones to the Aurors waiting outside saw the message passed on to DMLE Headquarters and the fireplace flared to life again as the floo was re-opened.

"Narcissa! Contact Regulus and the rest of the group. Let them know," Lucius urged as he was led into the floo. He disappeared from sight.

"Who else is involved in this?" Bones asked when she was left alone with Mrs Malfoy.

"I don't know," the other replied. "I don't know what you're talking about or what Lucius and anyone else might be up to."

"What of this 'group'?" Amelia pressed; again Narcissa shook her head.

"He usually speaks to Regulus Black, Walden Macnair, Peter Pettigrew, Crabbe, Goyle, Babbock, Mulciber and Barty Crouch's son about the happenings in our government and their _political_ opposition to Minister Potter," she stressed the word, "so I assume they're the ones my husband wants me to talk to."

"Very well," Bones nodded. "Mrs Malfoy," she eyed the blonde, "if we _do_ find evidence that you've withheld anything from us, you could face charges yourself."

"I promise you I know nothing," she insisted.

"We'll see." Bones gave a curt nod before flooing back to the Ministry.

 _Liberty Plaza, Flat 115,_

 _65 Leman St, Whitechapel, London_

The first thing Neville heard as he and his friends appeared was a shriek of pain followed by a long groan. A quick cry of "Aurors" later he raced towards the source of the sound only to be stopped in his tracks by the sight waiting for him in the flat's one bedroom. He had no wish to _ever_ see a naked Draco Malfoy again but the sight of an equally nude, whimpering and bound Ginny Weasley caused his eyes to widen. She was clearly grimacing and in pain, totally at Malfoy's mercy – and Neville doubted there much mercy to be had; something the bruise on her face seemed to attest to.

"Draco Malfoy, you're under arrest."

"For what?" he demanded, trying his best to cover himself up as the four Aurors entered the room.

"Treason, corruption and bribery – at least two counts," Neville began before the redhead interrupted him.

"You can add rape to that," she spat; her voice raspy from lack of use.

Malfoy dived for his wand; a stunner to the arse put paid to that and left him in a most undignified heap. Lee and Michael Corner hauled him off the floor and bundled him out of the room while Zach Smith sifted through the clothing on the floor to collect Draco's. Neville, meanwhile, untied Ginny before handing her her robes.

"Miss Weasley," he asked, back turned to her while she dressed, "would you be prepared to make a statement regarding your allegation."

" _Definitely_ ," she replied with all the vehemence she could muster into her still-weak voice. "The bastard deserves everything you can throw at him and more."

"You bitch!" a now revived and still struggling Draco yelled as he heard her.

"On the bright side, Malfoy," Lee taunted his prisoner, "the rape charge is the least of your problems: treason is likely to be enough to see you kicked through the veil."

"Maybe we'll let Ginny kick your spotty arse through it," Smith suggested; the redhead nodded vigorously at the prospect of exacting some retribution on her tormentor. As Malfoy was dragged through the floo she realised that he was right about one thing; he _wouldn't_ be living here much longer after all.

 _Department of Magical Law Enforcement,_

 _Ministry of Magic_

"Great work everyone," Bones complimented her team. "We have both Malfoys in custody along with Mr Higgs; Longbottom, interview him after lunch – let him sweat a bit longer." Neville nodded. "Tonks, you get to talk to Miss Weasley." Nymphadora nodded. "Handle her with kid gloves, Tonks," Amelia stated vehemently, "from what Longbottom reported she's suffered a lot since Malfoy bought her out of that place. Make sure she knows we have no intention of sending her back but we need whatever she can give us on mini-Malfoy."

"I doubt she'll know much that can help with the major charges; her twin brothers are the ones who know all about that."

"Good point, Longbottom. Jordan, go and find the Weasleys and let them know the Malfoys are in custody; we'll need their testimony to be water-tight to ensure this can't be turned around on us."

Lee nodded at his boss; recognising his dismissal he headed for the twins' workshop inside the Department of Magical Research.

 _Interview Rooms_

"Senior Auror Neville Longbottom interviewing the prisoner David Higgs," Neville began officially; his Dictaquill began recording the conversation. "Higgs was arrested this morning on charges of corruption, having abused his position as Shift Manager in the Magical Prisoner Annex of the Port of Aberdeen for personal gain, namely accepting a bribe in exchange for the early release of prisoner Ginevra Weasley on October twenty-third two thousand and three. It is understood that Mr Higgs has waived his right to representation. Mr Higgs, who gave you the money?"

Higgs was in a far better mood; before the interview "officially" started, Neville had explained to him exactly what needed to happen for him to walk out of the Ministry after his trial instead of being shipped to Ginny's old cell in Azkaban.

"I was given the money by Draco Malfoy," Higgs stated.

"Did he introduce himself?"

"No, but I recognised him. I was a seventh year when he arrived at Hogwarts; my younger brother was on the Quidditch team until Malfoy bought his way on in second year so I knew him, vaguely, from school; even as a first year he threw his weight around – and then some. There's also the fact that he looks quite a lot like his father; Lucius, of course, is rather well-known so I know what he looks like."

After a few more questions were asked and answered, Higgs was returned to his cell. He hoped that he wouldn't have a lengthy stay in custody.

"Can I contact my family, just so they know what's happened?"

"I'll make the arrangement," Longbottom promised.

* * *

"How did it go?" Bones asked as Neville emerged.

"He identified Draco, admitted taking the money, says it's routinely done to release short-term inmates early. Apparently they're all on the take," the Senior Auror shook his head.

"And with them being our department we've never looked into any of them, leaving them to it," she mirrored his action.

"What do we do about it? If what he's said is true we'd have to arrest almost all of them, restaff and retrain it."

"If that's what it takes, Senior Auror," she replied forcefully. "In the interim I'm sure our Aurors can be assigned to man the office."

Neville bit his tongue, not wanting the formidable witch to have any reason to assign _him_ to the job. Instead he changed the subject as they walked back towards the offices.

"Has either Malfoy been interviewed yet?"

"The only thing I've heard from Lucius is 'Say nothing, Draco; we'll soon see these ridiculous claims dismissed.'" Longbottom smirked at her passable impression of the arrogant aristocrat. "All I've heard from his son is snivelling and sobbing. Even in the Interview Room we got nothing more from either of them."

"So no demand for a lawyer? That surprises me."

"Yes, I'd have thought one would have been despatched quite rapidly. Maybe he thinks he can get out of this on his own and wants to save his gold."

"Well, I'll try interviewing them again later on; of course I'll let you know what, if anything, they say."

* * *

"Don't worry, Ginny, this isn't an _official_ interview," Tonks tried to be calm and approachable.

"Not _this_ time," the redhead muttered; she remembered Nymphadora interviewing her the last time she'd been in this position.

"You don't face any charges, Ginny, and you _won't_ be going back to complete your sentence; Madame Bones feels you've been punished enough. We _would_ like you to testify against Draco. Without that we can't get him for what he did to you."

"Do I have to?" she asked in a small voice; the thought of reliving the experiences under cross-examination, and fear of what the other lawyer might ask and insinuate, was a horrible one for her.

"Have to? No, but without that we can't charge him with raping you."

"But Neville saw him, and me…"

Not wanting to say the next part but knowing she had to, Tonks continued gently, "Yes, and he could claim it was all consensual; some people actually like that sort of thing, feeling helpless and at a loved one's mercy."

Ginny's face flushed at the possibility of having Draco described in those terms; she sat with her head bowed for a few moments before summoning up her Gryffindor courage. "Even the bruises?"

Tonks nodded. "They were healed in seconds so it's easy for him to claim it's something you wanted." She refrained from adding that it wouldn't be the first time that claim had been a part of a successful defence.

"I'll do it," she declared. "Can you bring my family along today? I'd like to go through the questions and answer them with them in the room, rather than telling them at home or them hearing about it in the trial."

"If you're sure," Tonks studied her carefully; the redhead nodded.

"Yes, I need to do this." She sighed. "I can't believe this all stemmed from falling for those lies. Being told we'd do something that was easy money, then getting arrested and having all the blame piled on me. And it resulted in this, and in Ron losing his job; he's lucky he didn't wind up as my neighbour in there," she shivered.

"Yes, Neville felt your family had enough problems so we let him go with just a caution; it wasn't enough to stop the Imps from sacking him though," Tonks concurred.

Ginny nodded. "He's the only one who wasn't happy to see me; he keeps glaring at me and I've heard him complain more than once to mum and dad that I cost him his dream." Her head was down again. "Between him and… and Malfoy I was thinking about leaving, about running away or…" she stopped, tears streaming down her face at the darkness she'd felt.

"Well it won't be easy but after Monday you can start to put this behind you."

Ginny managed to smile at her, though she doubted the Auror's words; she felt her career prospects were in tatters – heck, she thought she'd struggle to find _any_ sort of decent work after all this – and that it would be a _very_ long time before she could move on with her life in any meaningful way. She'd gone along with the attempted robbery because she was fed up of being poor and had been convinced by the others that, as a Pureblood, she had a _right_ to take whatever she wanted from 'lesser' beings; now she was likely to be stuck in poverty for her entire life.

 _The Burrow,_

 _Ottery St Catchpole, Devon_

"Why didn't you tell us?" Arthur had been horrified and heart-broken when he'd heard what Ginny had been through; Molly was in tears and beating herself up over waving her off with Draco that morning. The patriarch sat on his daughter's bed while the twins tried to console their mother (Percy had wanted to go to the cells and put an end to both Malfoys; it had ultimately taken a stunner to prevent him from doing so). Arthur sat on his little girl's bed while she lay there; it had been an emotionally exhausting day for her.

"He threatened me – said he'd make sure I was sent back there if I did. I never want to go there again," she began to sob. "I know everyone says he couldn't have done it but I was scared and… and he got me _out_ so who's to say he couldn't send me _back_?"

She curled up into a ball with her back to him; he placed a hand on her side while she wept again.

* * *

"Where do you two fit into all this?" Molly demanded of the twins once she had regained the power of speech and sufficient control over her own emotions.

"Malfoy came to us with an offer; he'd get Ginny out in exchange for some of the stuff we were working on. We knew we couldn't tell you because it really put the whole family in an impossible position," Fred began.

"If we'd gone along with it we'd have been in hoc to him forever," George agreed. "But how do we face the family knowing we could have done something for Gin but didn't?"

Their mother nodded; laid out like that, and with her little girl upstairs and safe again, she could see it was an impossible choice.

"So we spoke to Hermione and Luna about it, told them about the approach, from there we went to Neville, which meant Bones and the Minister would also know about it, then came up with the plan to trap them; it played out today and Malfoy and his dad are both in Ministry cells."

"If we'd known what he'd done to her though," Fred shook his head darkly. "Gin never said anything when he handed her over; we really had no idea."

"None of us did," their father joined them. "She's said why; we all heard it at the Ministry. Malfoy really did a number on her with her threats. How's Percy?"

"Furious that we stunned him," George informed him.

"We pointed out it probably saved his job; he said it would have been worth losing it – if you can believe that," Fred added.

Ordinarily this would have had the whole family laughing; these were not normal times so the comment barely raised a smile from anyone. They hoped, though, that things would get better for their girl in time.

 _Throne Room,_

 _Emperor's Palace,_

 _Moscow, Russia_

"Emperor, I have here some items received from Malfoy, our 'friend' in Britain," Oblansk stood in the room next to Svoboda; the two puppet leaders shot glares at one another when they thought the other wasn't looking, interplay that Karkaroff heartily approved of as it meant both would do their best to ingratiate themselves to _him_.

"Robes, Oblansk?" The Emperor held them aloft, sneering at them – and him. "They suit you," he mocked the Bulgarian.

"You misunderstand," he protested. "These robes have a shield woven into them. They would protect our… your," he hastily corrected in response to the Emperor's questioning eyebrow raise, "troops in battle. Malfoy says they will be available once the current Minister is overthrown and they are ready to join with us."

"Shielded robes? That could be useful," Karkaroff conceded. "Give them to General Botev when he goes to visit the Veelas next week," he glanced to his other minion, "now that their new home is ready for them. It will help deal with any who are… reluctant to be moved."

"Yes, Emperor," Oblansk agreed sulkily; he had hoped this would prove enough to prevent the loss of any of his Veela population.

"What word have you, Svoboda?" Karkaroff turned to the Czech.

"Emperor, my spies have received word from Kraków; enthusiasm is growing for a major uprising across Poland. It remains in the planning stages and there is no date for their move but it will happen soon. I will, of course, keep you informed as I learn more."

"Make sure that you do," he dismissed them both.

 _12 Grimmauld Place,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

 _Saturday, 1_ _st_ _November 2003_

"So," Macnair began as he surveyed the room, "what do we do about Malfoy?"

"What _can_ we do?" Regulus asked. " _I_ , especially, can do nothing; the man is charged with treason against our country. We are already affected by our association with him; news of this will drive the neutrals into Potter's arms. If he is convicted, things only get worse for us. If we try to intercede and he's _still_ convicted…"

"We lose _all_ credibility within the Wizengamot," Barty Crouch Jr concluded with a nod. "It's hard enough for me already with my father peering over my shoulder. If Malfoy goes down on top of that," he shook his head.

"Has Narcissa contacted you?" Pettigrew asked.

"Only every five minutes since Lucius was arrested," Black replied with an air of frustration. "Begging me to do everything I can to get him and darling Draco out of there. I offered her our lawyer but she said they have her own who is waiting to go once requested by Lucius."

Pettigrew suddenly laughed, causing all eyes to turn to him. "Sorry, I just thought of something. Can you imagine her getting you to try to bribe Bones?" the rat sniggered; the others smiled weakly at the thought.

"I'd be kicked out of the chamber – permanently," Black predicted.

"And what of Potter's proposals?" Crouch turned their thoughts to the other matter at hand. "How will all this affect our opposition to them?"

"We continue to argue against them," Black replied. " _If_ they pass, we bide our time until the creatures show their true colours and we discredit him as a result. Meanwhile we adopt a wait-and-see approach, trying to get as many as possible onside for keeping the new status quo for now."

"So we just give up?" Macnair asked.

"Malfoy's arrest has probably lost us this battle; we have to make sure we can remain in position to win the war. That may involve distancing ourselves from him as much as possible."

The other looked like he wanted to argue; he just couldn't think of an effective argument to use, nor did anyone think trying to separate themselves from Malfoy would be easy.

 _Courtroom 10,_

 _Ministry of Magic_

 _Monday, 3_ _rd_ _November 2003_

The chamber was packed; the serious nature of the charges meaning that the Malfoy trials had been fast-tracked.

"Lucius Malfoy," Barty Crouch Sr began imposingly as the entire Wizengamot stared at the wizard, shackled to one of the two chairs in the centre of the floor (his shaking and sobbing son sat next to him, to her heartbreak of his mother who was sat in the public gallery at the back of the cavernous chamber), "you have been charged with treason against this country and its Ministry. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty," he snarled venomously, to gasps from the assembled observers; a number of the Wizengamot members began to mutter to one another.

Crouch merely raised his eyebrows and nodded to his scribe; Percy Weasley recorded the plea as his boss turned to the other blond defendant.

"Draco Malfoy, you have been charged with one count of treason against this country and its Ministry, two counts of corruption and bribery – one of a member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and one of members of the Department of Magical Research and also one count of rape against Miss Ginevra Weasley. How do you plead?"

Draco raised his head and composed himself sufficiently to answer. "I admit the charges of corruption but plead not guilty to the others," he managed.

"Very well," Crouch nodded to Percy again.

Lucius rolled his eyes at his son; the boy was a fool. All he had to do was deny everything, stick to a story and they would both walk free. It was unfortunate for Lucius that he hadn't kept up with a particular recent change in the law; he was about to discover exactly _what_ had changed.

"What's this? What are you doing?" he demanded as a court official approached him.

"Administering Veritaserum," Crouch boomed.

"I am a Pureblood wizard," Malfoy returned pompously. "I refuse to subject myself to its use."

"You no longer have a choice. Not since the trial of Miss Weasley and her cohorts. The… discrepancy between testimony of fellow Purebloods meant that right was no longer safe from being abused, so it was scrapped."

"But…" Lucius gasped; the official advanced on him and he jammed his mouth shut.

"Do you refuse to allow its administering?" Crouch asked; he nodded vehemently.

"Weasley, add one count of obstruction of justice to the charges against Malfoy." He then looked to the official, who nodded, drew his wand and stunned Malfoy before tipping the required dosage down his unconscious throat. He then turned to a terrified Draco, who thrust his tongue out to accept the serum.

* * *

Condemned by the use of the truth serum, and having admitted to his plans to use government resources to ingratiate his faction with the Empire, to have the current Minister overthrown and then have Regulus take charge only to hand the country over to the Empire (Black squirmed uncomfortably at this), there could only be one outcome: Lucius Malfoy were convicted of treason and with it a mandatory death sentence. As his caged chair descended into the floor he bellowed that they couldn't do this to him and pleaded with his allies in government to get him out of there; Black and Macnair just looked away as he sank from view.

"Members of the Wizengamot," James spoke into the silence once the floor closed again; the only other sounds were the sniffles from the remaining pair of Malfoys, "following this testimony we can see that this plot implicates members of this very body." Regulus looked down; he hadn't expected the questioning to be so forensic as to point fingers at him and Macnair; the latter squirmed uncomfortably as the Minister's eyes bored into them. "I therefore call on all present to authorise a full investigation by the DMLE into these members and their actions, the results of which will be debated by the Wizengamot to determine what, if any, action should be taken against individual members." A healthy majority agreed (though there were some misgivings about potential actions or sanctions; nobody wanted to introduce a law that could one day be used against _them_ ) and Madame Bones was given her next project to work on; cleaning up the Magical Prisoner Annex would have to wait.

All eyes now turned to Draco. As he had admitted bribing Higgs the latter would not now be needed to testify against him. Still under the effects of the truth serum he admitted bribing the Weasleys (and confirmed that he _would_ have used the arrangement to blackmail them into providing further materials) and that he knew the supplies would go to the Empire. He was also forced to admit that he knew his father planned to depose the Minister, though he was able to deny having any direct involvement in the plot.

The Weasley family was dealt a blow when questions were asked, with him still under Veritaserum, about Ginny.

"Did you rape Ginny Weasley," the prosecutor asked.

"No," he replied; as he was compelled to speak the truth this caused the entire courtroom to draw a collective breath. The Weasley family were particularly shocked, Ginny especially, as she was expecting him to simply admit it so no further details would be sought.

"Did you have sex with her?"

"Yes."

"Did she consent?"

"No."

"Explain why you say you didn't rape her."

"I bought her out of Azkaban; she's mine to do with what I wish," he fired back arrogantly; Arthur looked furious while his wife and daughter began to cry anew.

The prosecutor turned to the chamber. "We see here the limitations of the truth serum," he explained. "It forces the drinker to tell the truth, but that is the truth _as they see it_. Had the other defendant been asked, he _might_ have been able to argue that he was doing what was best for this country, in bringing down the government, because he genuinely believed it to be true. That doesn't mean it _isn't_ treason, just not in his eyes. We see the same here; young Malfoy believes his victim to be some sort of property and that consent is now required. I urge you to prove him wrong."

A sea of nods greeted that statement and, with all charges addressed, the Wizengamot deliberated on its verdict and on Draco's fate.

* * *

"Draco Malfoy," Crouch spoke after the lengthy deliberations were concluded and verdicts returned, "you have been found guilty of rape and admitted two counts of corruption and bribery. You have, however, _just_ been cleared of the treason charge, as you were not directly involved in the plot against the Minister. However, for your crimes you will receive a sentence of fifteen years in Azkaban and compensate Miss Weasley to the sum of fifty thousand galleons. Sentence to commence immediately. Take him away."

The blond screamed for his weeping mother as he followed his father through the floor.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic_

James Potter collapsed into his chair with his eyes closed; he was emotionally drained and absolutely exhausted after the day's events, particularly the knowledge that a plot of such magnitude had formed including members of the Wizengamot itself and found himself wondering how _many_ members were implicated. The Minister suspected he'd be seeing a lot of Amelia Bones over the coming days. He took off his glasses and set them on the table before he heard the door close and somebody take the seat on the other side of his desk; he feared there would be a more immediate battle to be fought, one that he _really_ didn't want to have to.

"Please, Lily, don't ask me to do it. You _know_ I'd do _anything_ for you, but _please_ don't ask me to do this."

"What do you think I want you to do?" his wife asked softly.

"Spare Malfoy's life," he replied, opening his eyes and looking at the blurry figure of the love of his life. "Commute his sentence. I _know_ you, Lily, you're utterly opposed to execution, always have been. I don't think I've ever seen you prouder of Harry, of _any_ of the kids, than when that Veela you were chatting to told you about how he talked the Queen into charging those women who attacked him with something minor enough that it meant they didn't have to die for what they did." He closed his eyes again and rubbed his nose. "We're trying to change the magical world, Lil, and we're getting there – at least in our country – but for me, if we're to do so, we need to keep some of the old ways just a little longer."

Lily was silent for a few moments before speaking, slowly and deliberately choosing every word. "It's hard for me to change my views, just like that – or to support something I've despised my entire life. Even knowing what would have happened if Lucius had won, that in a Britain run by him and his ilk _I'd_ be the one with a death sentence – or worse," she added with a shudder. Lily stood, walked round the desk and kissed her husband on the cheek. "I love you James Potter." She then left the office without another word, leaving the Minister alone with his troubled thoughts.

 _16 Peverell Road,_

 _Godric's Hollow_

"Is this going to cause problems between us?" James asked as he and Lily sat at the dinner table; she was currently piling potatoes onto her plate while he put a few slices of beef onto his own, feeling more and more apprehensive about the upcoming execution and the effect that the sentence could have on his marriage.

"No, you don't need to worry about that," she replied instantly. "I still can't bring myself to _support_ executions, not even for someone like Malfoy, but I understand that, sometimes, you don't really have a choice. If you don't then your government is vulnerable to anyone else who wants to overthrow it."

James nodded, relieved that his wife _understood_ , even if she'd never bring herself to _agree_. "He'll never support what we want to do in the Magical world, he'll never treat non-Purebloods as equals, he'd quickly destroy _everything_ that we've achieved these past few years. Hell, we saw he was supporting the Empire and planning for them to take over Britain along with the rest of Europe; not only would you and I be in his sights but surely they'd see the Veela enslaved or dead and our son along with them."

"And yet you still don't have it in your heart to say he deserves to die," James smiled fondly at his wife. "One of the _many_ things I love about you, Lily Potter."

She smiled. "What are you going to do about Regulus and the plotters?"

"First thing is to find out how deep their plan goes and then take things from there," he shrugged. "I've arranged a meeting with Barty, Amelia and Frank first thing tomorrow to decide what form the investigation will take. Once we get some answers we can figure out what we have to do about it all."

"What's happening about the treaty?"

"The vote's still going ahead this week; actually," he suddenly grinned, "with questioning just about finished we might even get the vote tomorrow. It's certain that Barty or I will be able to direct business after everything that happened today. We can, rightly, say that we need the DMLE investigation to happen before we can address the issue – and we can probably push to bar those named from attending while it continues, or at least get some other concessions out of them – and then go for business as usual, correctly arguing that the treaty is the other biggest issue to be dealt with."

"So neutralise the main opposition and then get the treaty through? I like that plan," Lily nodded, her smile almost matching her husband's.

The Potters spent the evening after dinner snuggled on the settee in front of the TV before Lily showed her husband that everything was _definitely_ still more than ok between them; despite his worries, albeit they'd been lessened this evening, the Minister was able to sleep _very_ well that night.

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London_

 _Tuesday, 4_ _th_ _November 2003_

"To start with, Minister, I need to know the scope of this inquiry," Madam Bones began proceedings.

"The Wizengamot has approved your department looking into the activity of a selection of its members – _only_ the two who were identified by Lucius Malfoy in court yesterday and under the influence of Veritaserum," it was Barty Crouch who answered; the Chief Warlock began by setting out the legal boundaries of the inquiry for her. " _If_ ," he continued, "your investigation shows that other, as yet unnamed, members are _also_ implicated then you will have to present that information to the body in order to authorise an extension of your remit. For now you are limited to Black, Macnair and anybody Malfoy named who does not sit in that chamber." He deliberately avoided mentioning his own son by name; Bones made notes as he spoke. "For these people you can access anything and everything that will help – financial records: the goblins will help for their usual price," he wrinkled his nose – things were less tense between the goblins and this administration than had been the case in the past but mentioning you were from the Ministry was still not guaranteed to open any doors, and often had quite the opposite effect, "floo travel records, meetings they've called, rooms they've booked, others who attended them: there should be a wealth of information you can find quite easily; it's putting it all together that will be the main problem for you."

"On a personal level, Amelia," James spoke in a low voice, despite (with Lily outside the closed door preventing anybody from interrupting or coming too near) there being almost no chance of them being overheard, "I'd like you to look closely at Peter Pettigrew; I want to know just whose side he's really on."

Bones scribbled some more and nodded her head.

"And unofficially?" she prompted, her voice lowered to the same level as the Minister's.

"We know who Black's allies in the chamber are," Frank replied. "That's where you should be prepared to look and they're the people that we need the information on; we need to know whether or not they are linked to all this."

"In addition to the people Mrs Malfoy named when you spoke to her yesterday," Crouch added. "While it wasn't an _official_ interview, they were named as associates by her so there will be a trail that can prove it and allow you to widen the net to include them in the investigation proper."

"I'll put my best people on this," she promised, getting up to leave.

"And now, Barty, Frank," James stood, smiling, after Bones left, "it's time to ratify a treaty."

His Deputy and the Chief Warlock raised their eyebrows in surprise before, after sharing a look, they followed the Minister to the chamber.

 _Wizengamot Chamber_

Black and Macnair were conspicuous by their absence from proceedings when the trio arrived in the chamber. A quick question revealed that they had elected to recuse themselves from the body while the investigation was on-going. While this was _officially_ standard procedure, it had been so long since a member had come under investigation that nobody was sure that it would be voluntarily upheld – or that anyone who was aware of the procedure would actually insist upon it.

"Members of the Wizengamot," Barty began as the chatter in the chamber subsided with the appearance of the three wizards, "we have, as a body, recently discussed and dissected the treaty our Emissary – now Acting Ambassador – has negotiated between ourselves and the Veela Nation. I offer all members the opportunity now to ask any final questions of the Minister before putting the ratification to a vote." James had urged this course of action during their walk from his office and the other two were happy to agree.

A number of people were surprised by Crouch's statement, expecting business for the next few days to be dominated by yesterday's events; Member Goldstein actually voiced this opinion, causing Barty to turn to James to provide an answer.

"While yesterday's revelations were, undoubtedly, a shock to us all, the members named by Lucius Malfoy, under the effects of Veritaserum," he reminded them subtly, "are not present today. Furthermore, until Madam Bones and the DMLE have had the opportunity to investigate the allegations and find if indeed there _is_ some grand conspiracy afoot to overthrow our system of government, and if so who is involved and what how deep it runs, we feel it should be business as usual. I can think of no business more pressing then the forming of a friendship and alliance with a nation who will be at the forefront of any confrontation with this new power."

Enough members nodded their heads to convince the body that this was the correct way to deal with the plot; Black's faction looked concerned at this development but had little time to come up with any objections – or more questions. That James threw in his reminder that Veritaserum had been used on the Malfoys also helped persuade them that this was a genuine problem and the investigation was essential; something that also unnerved some of Black's allies in the chamber.

With the main opposing faction wrong-footed it didn't take long for James to answer the few questions that were asked; the Minister then took advantage of a few seconds of silence to bring proceedings to a close and call the vote. James, his Deputy and the Chief Warlock sat nervously as Percy Weasley requested, in his capacity as Crouch's official scribe, asked members to light their wands for a Yes. It _looked_ like they had more than half but wouldn't know for sure until he finished counting. Weasley scribbled a number down and then asked for No votes; James's face broke into a broad smile as only a handful of wands were lit – far fewer than lit when Weasley then asked for abstentions before he read the official tally: 53 Yes, 12 No, 33 Abstained.

Barty gripped the Minister's shoulder in congratulation as James let out a long, relieved breath; the treaty had passed.

James took his leave at this point, allowing Barty to move business on to the next item on the agenda; he almost ran back to the lifts and to his office, such was his eagerness to pass the good news on to his son.

 _British Ambassador's Suite,_

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

The son in question was taking advantage of his current lack of official duties to learn more about his hostesses. Fleur had loaned him some books that documented the laws, history and folklore of the Veela Nation and, while he took much of the 'history' with a pinch of salt (it was written by a Veela, after all, and so he suspected it was far from an impartial tome) he found it an interesting read nonetheless, which helped him to better understand some of the viewpoints that had been espoused – since this history was what they had grown up learning. He was surprised when the fireplace flared, knowing that the only ones connected to it were Fleur's office, his father's office and his parents' home in Godric's Hollow (due to the time of day he felt safe in ruling out the prospect of his parents calling him from home).

"Harry?" He heard his father's voice and smiled, especially as he could detect excitement but no anger or fear in the voice.

"Hi dad, how are you?" He spun round in his chair and saw James's head appear.

"Really well, son. Listen, the treaty's passed the Wizengamot; the alliance has been approved!"

"That's fantastic news, dad," Harry enthused. His face fell a little as a thought struck him. "Does this mean you'll be recalling me and installing a permanent Ambassador?" He was well aware that he lacked the experience for such a position full-time.

"Not yet. If the chamber asks I'll argue that you're one of the few mages – and _males_ – that the Veela trust; we don't have any witches in senior positions in the Department of International Co-operation either – to your mother's continued chagrin – so there's no better candidate available. I hope you're learning enough on the job that ultimately you can have the job – if you want it," he added slyly. "Plus, with attitudes to them the way they still are, I don't think too many people would say they _want_ the job."

"Well if you can't get anyone else…" Harry shrugged, though he wore a broad smile.

"Ambassador," James turned official, "please extend a formal invitation to Queen Fleur and her retinue to visit Britain and address the Wizengamot at a time of her choosing. Now that the deal is done I think it's time to start trying to forge closer relations through such a visit. Please ask her to reply with a number of potential dates for such a visit."

Harry nodded. "I will pass on your invitation at the earliest opportunity; I need to deliver the news to her that the deal is done anyway." With the formal part over he then asked, "So what else has been happening lately?"

"Well, Lucius and Draco Malfoy have both been convicted of some rather serious crimes." James went on to detail the plot to oust him and hand the Ministry – and with it the country – over to the Empire, along with Draco's part in it and his other misdeeds.

"Nasty," Harry winced. "I was never close to Ginny… despite her best efforts," he shook his head at the memory of the girl trying to use a potion to get him interested in her: didn't she realise that interested-but-not-desperate was guaranteed to get his attention? Well, except for one person but she was a special case… he brought himself from his musings and continued, "but I wouldn't wish that on anybody. Have they been sentenced yet?"

"Draco got 15 years in Azkaban; Lucius is being executed this evening." Harry looked shocked so James continued, "He was convicted of treason and admitted it all under Veritaserum so there's nothing he can use as grounds for appeal. He _could_ plead for clemency but the best that would get him is life in the D-wing; most people would choose death over that."

Harry nodded; D-wing housed the highest concentration of Dementors in Azkaban, along with the country's worst criminals. A thought struck the young diplomat though.

"What does mum think of this?"

His father sighed. "She… well, you know her views and opinions: I dare say you share some of them," he added with a pointed look. "The reality is though that if he'd got his way then her, me, Frank and probably you and all the Veelas would be either dead or enslaved. She doesn't _agree_ but she _understands_ , which is about as good as I could hope for."

"Ok. I'd better let Her Majesty know the good news. We'll talk over the weekend as normal? Maybe beforehand if I get any information about a date for the Royal visit."

"Ok, son. See you then."

 _Royal Office_

"Enter," Fleur called in response to the knock on the door. Harry entered, escorted by the guard on duty. "Ambassador? Your message requesting an audience sounded rather urgent. What can I do for you?" There was apprehension in her tone as a result of James's past caution about what could happen if Britain rejected the alliance.

"Your Majesty, I bring excellent news from Britain. The treaty has been accepted and has passed into law."

"This is indeed fantastic news," Fleur confirmed with a smile, feeling a weight leave her shoulders; she dismissed the guard with a wave and the woman gave a reluctant bow before returning to her post outside the door, leaving her monarch alone with Harry.

"Furthermore, my Minister has extended an invitation to you to bring a delegation to Britain at a time of your choosing for an official Royal visit and an opportunity to address the governing body."

"That would be a wonderful opportunity," she nodded. "With the treaty agreed we should also visit some of our exclaves. Would you like to accompany us to Bulgaria next week and meet our Governor-General?"

"I would be honoured," he nodded. "Can a visit be arranged in such a short space of time?"

She chuckled. "When you are Queen you can do anything you like," she told him in a conspiratorial whisper.

"It would be a fantastic opportunity, Your Majesty," Harry's smile was even wider than Fleur's; he gave her a shrewd look. "We could also find out from your Bulgarian exclave what they know of the empire's plans."

The Queen nodded. "Usually their reports only concern immediate affairs of our nation; we have always been willing to leave the wider world to its own troubles where they do not affect us. It is possible, though, that individual subjects have knowledge that they could share with us. It is also likely that this Empire will increasingly look to infringe upon our sovereignty before long."

"Anything that would help us find out what they're up to would be useful," he concurred.

Fleur was silent for a few moments; she chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. "Ambassador… 'Arry," she dropped the formality, "would you care to celebrate this latest milestone with me this evening?"

Harry instantly cast his mind back to their previous 'celebration'; it was clear from the look on the Queen's face that she had a repeat performance in mind. "It would be my pleasure," he smiled.

"I can certainly promise that," she chuckled. "Come, we should go to dinner."

The two left the office heading for the Main Hall.

 _12 Grimmauld Place,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

"How do we get out of this? _Is_ there a way out of this?" Regulus demanded. He looked around him at the glum faces of his cronies. "This could cost us more than just some votes and some battles, it could set our cause back _years_!"

Macnair nodded. "The arrest of Malfoy has proved to be a disaster for us. Forcing him to spill everything he knew under _Veritaserum_ … I don't know how Bones and Crouch got wind of his plans but they've really turned things against us."

"Could this jeopardise your seats on the Wizengamot even?" Pettigrew asked, forcing concern into his voice; the two members shared an apprehensive look.

"To remove us," Black began slowly, "would take a full vote of the other members of the body."

"It only requires a simple majority though," Macnair added warningly, "and with neither of us permitted to vote on the other's case that leaves 98 votes with us already two votes down."

"It's practically unheard of for it to even _go_ to a vote though," Black continued, "after all, why invoke a procedure that could one day be used against _you_?"

"Especially when even if we lost the votes we would be allowed to handpick our successors – given that neither of us has another immediate family member to take it; I'm an only son and your brother…"

" _He is no brother of mine_ ," Regulus snarled, "father saw to that years ago. No, I'm sure that if we stay quiet for the duration of this investigation it will blow over and we can begin to quietly rebuild our power base in time for the next Ministerial election."

"By that time it may take a while to undo all Potter's changes," Crouch lamented. "Unfortunately we have no other choice but to wait it out."

The fireplace sparkled emerald green, causing the assembly to start. A single envelope flew from it and, suspended in mid-air, began to speak in Amelia Bones' voice. "Regulus Black, Walden Macnair; your presence is requested in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement offices tomorrow, Wednesday, 5th November 2003 at 10 a.m., for questioning in the matter of the plot uncovered during the trial of Lucius Malfoy. Signed, Amelia Bones, Director of the DMLE." Its message delivered, the envelope ignited before the ash fell to the floor; Kreacher quickly and invisibly swept it up, receiving a seemingly automatic mutter of thanks from a stunned Regulus.

"What will you do?" Crouch asked, finally breaking the tense, pained silence.

"As Wizengamot members Bones has done all she can," Macnair reasoned. "She can _request_ our appearance but not _demand_ it. _Only_ the Wizengamot itself could summon us and compel us to answer questions – and even then we can refuse to accept _Veritaserum_."

"Failure to respond to her request, or refusal to submit to truth serum, would surely make your removal from the body more likely though?" Pettigrew asked; Black conceded this was true.

"As I said, however, we can choose our own successors so Potter would have little to gain from our removal; it could even make martyrs of us to our allies, much like _poor Lucius_. No, I will not be meeting with Madam Bones; I shall send Kreacher tomorrow morning to inform her of this." Macnair confirmed that he would take the same approach; Pettigrew, meanwhile, began mentally compiling his report for James.

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

A sated Harry Potter lay in the Queen's oh so comfortable bed; the naked, sleeping monarch was draped over him, blond hair covering his bare chest while the smallest hint of a smile adorned her face. Harry's left arm held Fleur in place while his right hand gently traced the smooth, perfect skin of her back. She shifted in her sleep, snuggling closer to him, moving a few inches up his body until he could just crane his neck enough to plant a light kiss on her temple, not noticing that this act broadened the young woman's smile. Sleep was quickly coming upon him but, as his head returned to his pillow, he found himself thinking on his future; ever since his time in France he'd been a playboy, a string of girlfriends and lovers had fallen for his charms and, while he'd never _mistreated_ any of them he certainly could have behaved better towards some and not had to rely on his charisma to dig him out of trouble. With a snigger he reasoned he'd left most of the trouble to Neville with his best friend adopting the same lifestyle. Now, though, Neville seemed to have a serious relationship; serious enough to introduce her to people (and Harry especially) as his girlfriend and Harry found himself wondering if the time could be right for him to look to settle down too. Whether that was remotely possible with the girl in his arms, given that she was the ruler of a matriarchy, was highly debatable (and very probably against their laws) but, in a castle full of beautiful women, he was sure he could find someone, especially as his new job meant he'd likely be here for years to come. First, though, perhaps he should _check_ those laws, just to make sure. That was his last thought before sleep claimed him.

 _Department of Mysteries,_

 _Ministry of Magic_

The Minister, his Deputy, the Chief Warlock, his ever-present secretary and Head of the DMLE stood near the Veil of Death. Behind them Narcissa Malfoy stood under Auror guard; the blonde witch was shaking and sobbing as she awaited her husband's fate. The door to the room opened and Lucius was dragged in, flanked by two other Aurors; Bones approached them, wand trained on the shackled wizard as they led him towards the structure.

"Lucius Malfoy," Crouch began in serious tones as the wizard was shepherded to the brink of the large stone edifice, "you have been convicted of treason against our nation and sentenced to death. We are here tonight to bear witness this event. Have you anything to say before sentence is carried out?"

Malfoy turned defiantly to the triumvirate and met their looks with a sneer. "Your days are numbered, _Potter_ ," he spat at the Minister. "Our time will come; and our cause will come to pass." He stretched his shackled hands towards James and took a stride forwards.

The two Aurors moved away from Malfoy as Crouch raised his wand, hitting him with a stunner; the impact sent Lucius tumbling backwards into the Veil; upon connecting with it the blond wizard disappeared. The only sound that could be heard for several seconds were his window's sobs before Crouch lowered his wand and spoke again. "It is done. Weasley, make note that, in accordance with our laws, Lucius Malfoy was executed by passing through the Veil at 11 p.m. on Tuesday, 4th November 2003."

Percy documented the appropriate information and the assembly began to file out, a sole Auror waited on Narcissa composing herself sufficiently to leave. She trudged past him and he closed the door, sealing the now empty room before following the rest of them to the lifts and Atrium to go home.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

 _16 Peverell Road,_

 _Godric's Hollow_

 _Sunday, 9_ _th_ _November 2003_

"When do you leave for Bulgaria?" Lily asked her son; the Potters, and their guests, had just finished lunch and had retired to the Living Room.

"Tomorrow evening, I believe," Harry answered. "The Queen has informed her Governor-General of the intended visit and preparations were being made all week. We plan to hold the formal meetings on Tuesday and then we're looking to spend a couple more days there getting the 'unofficial' news."

"About the Empire," Remus supplied; Harry nodded.

"Hopefully their news will tally with what my 'friends' have told me," the Werewolf commented. "I've been told that uprisings are planned across Poland; obviously if there were _also_ insurgencies elsewhere it would help destabilise things more."

"Do you have a date for them?" Harry asked; Remus shook his head. "A pity. It would be something I could pass on to see if the Veelas in the exclave can help co-ordinate something."

"You're assuming the Bulgarians care," Sirius warned. "From what I know of Bulgarian magical history they're rather more… traditionally inclined than most of Europe ever has been; my family would have fitted in very nicely there," he turned to his old friend, the current British Minister, "which is probably why Malfoy was so comfortable approaching them; his and the Empire's ideologies appear to be virtually identical. I suspect there would be little opposition to the Empire in Bulgaria itself – Romania or Transylvania, the more recent annexes, would be better bets."

"Probably Hungary as well then," James nodded thoughtfully. Lily frowned a little; she understood the need to 'talk shop' but longed for the days when politics didn't dominate discussions, especially with it being a rare weekend where one of her children was home.

James, of course, noticed his wife's expression. "I think we need a change of subject," he smiled before shooting her a sly look. "Shall we talk Quidditch?" This caused the men to snigger, knowing her indifference to the sport; it did, however, cause her to smile at his efforts and antics.

"Neville says Ilkley won yesterday," Harry jumped on the subject. "He missed the game; Bones is pushing him and the department really hard at the moment – sorry mum," he grinned, realising he was starting to veer towards politics again, "anyway, he says Appleby have enquired about signing his girlfriend as a reserve seeker."

"That would be really good for her, making the professional league at her age," James enthused; Lily nodded next to him.

"Yes, though he says she's in two minds if they _do_ make an offer – because they already have a few seekers in the squad; I think she'd like them to do one of those sign-and-loan deals so she can still play regularly for Ilkley but be available for Appleby if they want her."

"Having her cake and eating it? I can't imagine they'd agree to that," Sirius sniggered.

"It's fairly common in non-magical sports," Lily defended, "and since she's first generation, it makes sense that she'd propose something like that."

"Anyway, apparently she's planning to suggest it to them when she has her talks with them this week."

* * *

Harry said goodbye to his parents and honorary uncles; as he shook hands with Remus the werewolf reminded him to pass on any news he hears about an uprising so that he can inform his friends.

"Just be careful," James cautioned. "Remember that anything you do _has_ to stay under the radar for now; Britain can't be seen to be intervening in their affairs at the moment, so long as they don't antagonise our new allies of course."

Harry nodded. "I will, dad," he promised. Stepping into the green fireplace, he vanished, leaving his worried mother behind.

 _Department of Magical Law Enforcement,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London_

 _Monday, 10_ _th_ _November 2003_

"Where are we with the investigation?" Amelia Bones demanded as she swept her gaze around the room at her Auror squadron heads.

'Early days' was the general response; Neville had been tasked with looking into links between Malfoy and members of the Wizengamot (his access to the Deputy Minister and his office being the reason he'd been given this task) and had interviewed a few people but not yet found anything concrete; Narcissa Malfoy had been of no use as she was still far too distraught to answer any questions. In fact, the only thing she'd really said was that they should get Draco out of Azkaban – then she'd see what she could remember; her offer had been swiftly shot down and Bones instructed the team to go back next week with instructions for the widow to co-operate or else.

"On a related note," Nymphadora spoke up in turn, "accepting bribes in exchange for releasing low-level prisoners is far more widespread than just Higgs; going over the paperwork, comparing sentences handed out to sentences _served_ and who was on duty when the prisoner was released… basically having sacked Higgs we need to sack _all_ the managers. It's been going on for _years_ so most of the retired managers have been on the take as well."

Bones shook her head in a mix of disbelief and disgust. "Higgs said he shared the money with his team; they're all currently suspended. I need to take this to the Minister – do we sack _everyone_ , go after the pensions of the retirees or do we try and draw a line under it here and move on? Can we even restaff the department if we let them all go?" Nobody answered, knowing that it was a call that was far above their pay grade. "Thank you, Tonks," Bones told her Auror, "anything else from your investigation?"

The metamorphmagus shook her head. "No, boss. There's no evidence of who supplied the bribes in any of the cases; it was only the wider net that brought this to our attention, and Higgs' willingness to identify Malfoy that linked him to it. _Maybe_ we could match the bribes to a Gringotts withdrawal but we'd have to go over every account ledger the bank has and even then it would probably only be circumstantial – a larger withdrawal made within days of the bribe being made, and even then they could simply deny it and we'd be relying on the manager to be able to confirm a name. If you want my opinion…" she left it hanging for a moment to allow Bones to silence her if she wished, "there's no grand conspiracy here, just an _understanding_ that Purebloods convicted of minor crimes can be bought out of prison."

"They were _all_ Purebloods?" Neville sought confirmation; his boss glanced questioningly at him.

"As best as we can tell," Tonks confirmed. "Maybe first-gens aren't aware of 'how these things work'," she shrugged.

"Or maybe they get stiffer sentences and less sympathy."

"Well whatever the reason," Bones drew the discussion to a halt, "it's clear that this, while a problem, is a distraction from our major investigation rather than a part of it. Thank you for your efforts, Tonks – and those of your team of course – but I need you to stop doing that and look elsewhere into the conspiracy."

"Sure thing, boss," she nodded, expecting that this would be the case.

"There is one more name, one my dad mentioned," Neville volunteered. "Some guy he remembers from school; apparently he was a first year, sorted into Slytherin when Malfoy made prefect." Longbottom glanced at his notes. "Snape! That's his name. Dad says Malfoy really took him under his wing – and Snape was apparently much the worse for it in terms of his attitude."

Bones wrinkled her nose in thought. "I'd left Hogwarts by the time Malfoy would have made prefect so I can't comment. Alright, Longbottom, track down this Snape and interview him, see what he has to say."

Amelia sighed as she dismissed her charges; she knew that in addition to the main investigation she needed to bring the petty corruption to the Minister's attention, given how widespread it clearly was. She also knew they all had more important things to be concerning themselves with at this time.

 _Abercrombie's Potions and Medicines,_

 _Solihull, West Midlands_

"Severus Snape?" Neville and his team entered the small conference room where the sour-faced, black-clad man was skulking. He turned to face them, eyebrows rising a fraction as he studied the young leader.

"Mr Longbottom. What can I do for you?" When Neville appeared slightly surprised to be recognised, Snape smirked. "You favour your mother," he pointed out, "and the Deputy Minister and his wife appear in the newspapers regularly."

Neville gave a curt nod in understanding. "I'd like to ask you a few questions about Lucius Malfoy," he stated without preamble. Snape's sneer grew as he warily eyed the Aurors.

"Ah yes, a most unpleasant way to meet his end," the bat-like man volunteered. "What do you expect me to say that you don't already know?"

Neville bristled at the sarcasm in Snape's voice. "Well, as you can probably imagine, we're concerned about the idea of there being people in the Wizengamot who support his plan. Therefore, given that you've known Malfoy since you were 11, we're hoping you can tell us something about his other associates."

"I'm afraid I can't help you," Snape replied instantly – _too quickly_ , Neville thought. "As it happens Lucius _did_ approach me – more than once," he qualified, seeing the Auror Leader's sceptical look, "regarding my _official capacity_ ; I am a Potions Master here," he added smugly. "Malfoy wanted me to intentionally sabotage the Ministry's order of the Wolfsbane potion in order to drive werewolves back underground and into Karkaroff's arms." Neville would be thankful for Smith's Dictaquill as he was surprised not only by Malfoy's request but by the news that Snape was apparently brewing such a key potion for the Ministry, given what Frank had said about the man. On review, learning that Snape knew who Karkaroff was proved, in his mind anyway, that the man was holding back at least _some_ information from them; he was pretty sure the average wizard in the street had little interest in what was happening in Eastern Europe at this time and wouldn't unless it began to directly affect Britain.

" _You_ brew the potion? Personally?" he sought to clarify.

"Indeed, Mr Longbottom. In fact, unless you wish for the Ministry's order to be spoilt, might I suggest we curtail this little chat and allow me to get back to work?"

"One more thing – what did Malfoy offer you to sabotage the potion?"

"Not enough," Snape bristled. "Had I done so I would have not only been subject to the law myself but I would never have worked again. Malfoy _did_ intimate that I could be some sort of private brewer for him and his friends but that too was not sufficient to entice me. N-"

"Who were his friends?" Neville interrupted.

"Usually I met Mr Malfoy alone," Snape replied, "although on the occasion that I was invited to his manor I was also in the company of Crouch Jr and Pettigrew."

" _Just_ those two?" the Auror pressed.

"No," Snape was forced to admit, "MacNair and Black were also there planning their strategies for the Wizengamot. I take little interest in politics though so I didn't join their cosy little chats. Speaking of which, Mr Longbottom, much as I have enjoyed this, can I _please_ get back to the job the Minister is paying me to do?"

"Very well," Neville nodded absently. "We'll be in touch if we have any further questions for you."

"I look forward to it," Snape replied contemptuously before breezing past them. The squad filed out thoughtfully.

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

"Are you ready to leave, Ambassador?" Danielle asked as Harry was leaving the dining hall. He confirmed he was and asked if she was accompanying them. "No," the Veela shook her head, "I am not a part of the Royal Entourage for this visit." She shrugged. "In my position, I would not bring anything to the talks so the Queen sees no need for me to be there; I continue to concern myself with the affairs of the nation here instead."

"Then I will see you when I get back," he smiled at her; she gave a small bow and watched him go.

Harry nipped back to his suite, packed a few days' worth of clothes in a small hold-all and made his way to Fleur's office. Upon entering he recognised some senior courtiers from his meetings and also noted a surprisingly large number of guards in the room.

"Purely a precaution," Fleur spoke as he looked around. "When I leave here I ensure I have the full Royal Guard with me, just in case something happens."

"I understand," he nodded, "it is better to be safe."

"Indeed… especially after what happened to my mother…" she trailed off, eyes unfocussed as she peered at a spot over his shoulder. "Anyway," she shook her head, "if everybody is ready?" When she received a volley of nods and murmured assent she indicated to her guards. They picked up the bags dotted around the room and led the procession back to a place Harry vaguely recognised; it was where he had first entered the castle.

"The portals link to all of our territories," one of the guards explained as she gestured for him to go through; he obeyed and the group found themselves in the cavernous area the guards had led him to. He gave a wry smile as they passed the small holding cell that had briefly imprisoned him while he waited on meeting the Queen for the first time. "It also leads to where we found you," she added as she reappeared by his shoulder, "for when we visit the villages by the lake."

Emerging from the cave, however, Harry found himself in an area he'd never seen before; they were in a wooded area but it clearly wasn't Switzerland. The next thing he saw, as his eyes adjusted to the gloomy half-light of dusk, was the two rows of Veelas lining the route, each held a lit wand that illuminated the area enough to grant some visibility and together they gave their guests a guard of honour; they were dressed in a similar manner to the Veelas who inhabited the castle, only their clothing was red rather than the pale blue he'd become accustomed to. At the head of the line, and flanked by two guards of her own, stood a Veela dressed in golden robes similar to those Fleur had worn for the signing ceremony when she met Harry's parents, though these robes were a little less decorative. Harry noticed that all of them looked surprised to see him; he figured that they wouldn't be used to seeing men accompanying a Royal visit.

"Yordanka!" Fleur greeted the woman warmly; she responded by dropping to her knees and bowing to the Queen.

"Your Majesty, welcome to our humble village."

"Arise," the monarch replied lazily; the gold-clad woman obeyed. "This is Yordanka Eleneva," she introduced her to Harry, "Governor-General of the Bulgarian exclave. Yordanka, this is Harry Potter – Ambassador from Britain."

"Really? I was not aware that your neighbours had made regular contact," she observed, keeping her tone deferential rather than accusing.

"It is a recent event – and one of the reasons for this visit, for Ambassador Potter to meet you and our people here. We will discuss the situation further tomorrow."

"Of course," Yordanka nodded. "Please," she gestured down a partially worn path. The Royal Guard mingled with red-robed warriors and they led the procession down the path until eventually they reached the village, coming to a halt at a modest-sized house just outside the village proper.

"This is the residence of the Governor-General," Fleur explained quietly to Harry. "It will house us for the next few days."

"Your pardon, Your Majesty, we were not expecting a male dignitary," Eleneva spoke up. "We can accommodate the Ambassador here, he will have his own room, but it will be a little more crowded for your guards."

"I can sleep anywhere. Really, it's fine," Harry spoke up; Fleur shot him down.

"While your generosity is appreciated, you are an Ambassador to our nation and will be treated accordingly," she hissed; he nodded his acceptance.

The party separated; most of the entourage were dispersed around the village while Fleur, her guards and Harry were led into the house. Harry was shown to a small room on the first floor, which he graciously accepted, while Fleur, of course took the Master bedroom with the Governor-General moving temporarily into the second bedroom.

"Our guards will all have to sleep downstairs," Yordanka observed, "which will help security."

"It will be a tight fit but we will manage," Fleur commented with a nod.

One of the Governor-General's guards seemed to be eyeing Harry with interest. "If things are _too_ tight I could share the Ambassador's room," she offered innocently; Harry's blush only served to increase the amusement of the group, though _name_ herself looked a little scandalised at the forthrightness of her guard. Fleur fought the urge to smile at the Ambassador's discomfort; instead she settled for an expression that suggested that she was not amused. Looking from the Queen to her representative Harry got the suspicion that the forward guard would find herself on latrine duty for the next few days.

 _Tuesday, 11_ _th_ _March 2003_

"Good morning, Ambassador," Eleneva greeted Harry when he made his way downstairs; the Governor-General sat with two of her guards but the lower level was otherwise deserted. "Did you sleep well?" When he confirmed that he had she continued, "We will be serving breakfast outdoors if you wish to eat with us."

"Thank you," he nodded, following her gesture and leaving the house, taking the opportunity to get his first look at the village in daylight. It reminded him of the pioneer-era villages he'd seen on one of his family's summer holidays in North America and, like the castle, there wasn't a man in sight. It was something he asked one of the red-clad women seated at the large table about; she responded in halting French.

"Like those in the castle, these days we do not live among men. We go to surrounding villages to collect the wizards' seed and continue our lines but our sons, we do not keep them." He thought he could detect a hint of sadness in her voice.

"These days?" he pressed gently; it was another Veela who leaned across and answered.

"The decision was taken a little over half a century ago and many families were torn apart as husbands and sons were expelled from the village. It was a result of an order from the Queen at the time – Her Majesty's great-aunt – and it was taken in response to hardening attitudes among wizards and witches towards Veelas. Before that we lived alongside other magicals; first those with no Veela relatives were removed, then it was decided to remove _all_ non-Veela and _all_ men. It was not a popular decision and many Veela left with their families, though we are told they suffered many persecutions under the Bulgarian regime. Things have been… difficult between us ever since."

* * *

After breakfast Harry joined the Queen, the Governor-General and two other natives of the village in the office of the house. The exclave's day-to-day leader listened as Fleur outlined the treaty signed between the Veelas and Britain, along with the reasons for it from her side (most of which Harry had heard from Gabrielle already). The Queen then allowed him to add Britain's reasons for the approach, leading him on to the topic of most interest to him.

"Excellency," he focussed on her, "my government wishes to be made – and kept – aware of what Karkaroff and the Empire are doing. We would like you and your people to share anything you know with us; we believe it is essential for the free nations of Europe that we work together to curtail their advancement and contain them within their current borders. We fear that they are already too powerful for us to stop them completely but if we can ultimately make contact with internal dissidents then we may look to support them covertly and try to break up the Empire from within – otherwise we fear it will ultimately expand and threaten first our allies and eventually even our own island."

The Governor-General nodded sagely. "There is wisdom to your words, Ambassador. I will confess that I have little news from our host country; we mostly keep to ourselves. However some of the women here _do_ venture into Bulgaria regularly and one is a recent immigrant who previously lived among witches and wizards," having overheard some of his conversation at breakfast she added, "she, like most of our immigrants is a descendent of one of the women who left with their families all those years ago. I will arrange for you to speak to them."

Fleur frowned; these Veelas had always been considered as defectors if not traitors by the nation so the welcoming back of their offspring wasn't something that particularly appealed to her. Since becoming Queen and meeting with the exclave leaders she had come to learn more of the views of the other side (and how the history she had been taught was heavily slanted against the defectors) but old habits die hard and, so many years removed from the event, it was impossible for her to judge what the whole truth was anyway.

* * *

The news Harry received later in the day when he spoke to the denizens of the village painted a disturbingly bleak picture; the opinion of the women who spent most time in Bulgaria was that things were getting worse for them and they were becoming more marginalised as the Empire's influence and philosophies spread.

"For most witches and wizards in Bulgaria there is little to dislike about the Empire," one woman (Penka) explained. "The policies are shifting ever more in favour of them over other magic users – ourselves, gnomes, goblins, centaurs: we are all being pushed to the margins. Indeed Nadezhda," she gestured to another Veela, "was exiled from her home so she came here."

"That is mostly true," the Veela confirmed, "I lived happily in Gabrovo for several years but as the Empire's influence grew and wizardkind's dogma became more accepted I found myself increasingly pushed out of society. Then they passed the bylaw saying I could not work because the job I was doing was only for a human witch or wizard. My choices were to leave or to live there at the whims of others – they would have made me at best a wife or at worst a sex slave."

Harry frowned; he could easily envisage the Empire taking the enclave by force and the same fate befalling _all_ the women here and resolved to speak to Fleur about it before the conclusion of the visit.

"All wizards?" he asked curiously. "I ask because in my country we have groups that favour Purebloods above all others."

She frowned a little in thought. "The Pureblood agenda _is_ being pushed more these days; it is not something the people _really_ support – just so long as _all_ wizards can rule over the rest of us. It has not caused much opposition yet, though some _have_ complained about it, fearing that once we are dealt with then they will be next."

 _First they came for the Socialists…_ Harry nodded, reminded of the poem about how totalitarian regimes in the muggle world had utilised divide-and-rule.

They continued to chat about more pleasant subjects, with Harry enjoying the chance to talk to people who had an idea about what was happening on the ground. Little did he know that his concerns about the Veelas' future were valid; moves to enslave the village were already well advanced.

 _Bulgarian Ministry of Magic,_

 _Sofia, Bulgaria_

 _Wednesday, 12_ _th_ _November 2003_

"Enough excuses Oblansk!" Karkaroff was furious at having to come to Bulgaria to deal with his underling. "You have wasted enough of our time! Prepare a force to go to the Veelas _tomorrow_ and move _all_ of them to Prague!"

"You said I was to move half of them!" the puppet Minister protested.

"That was before you forced me to repeat myself. Perhaps losing _all_ of your little toys will persuade you not to try my patience in future?"

Oblansk said nothing; he was too shocked and horrified to do so. "Maybe this will help," the Emperor threatened. "If you do not send a force there tomorrow you will not be Minister tomorrow night; your new home will be in the mines of Siberia instead."

"Y- yes, my Lord," he stuttered. Under the Emperor's eye he threw some powder into his fireplace and ordered his best General to prepare a squadron to go and round up the creatures.

 _Veela Village,_

 _Skalen venetz_

 _Thursday, 13_ _th_ _November 2003_

Discussions had gone well; by early afternoon they had finished all the business that Fleur wished to discuss and were using the time to discuss more inconsequential things (Fleur had even promised to consider relaxing the bar on men residing in the village, which was something the exclave had been hoping for as many still had memories of how things were before the ban was introduced).

A knock on the door disturbed their talks; it was followed, surprisingly, by a Veela guard barging her way into the room. "Your Majesty, Your Excellencies," she bowed apologetically to the three of them, "my most sincere apologies for interrupting…"

"I trust there is a good reason for your doing so," the Governor-General prompted threateningly.

"Yes ma'am, a large number of Bulgarian wizards just apparated into the middle of the village; they said they are here to take us away."

The three leapt to their feet; one of Fleur's aides hurriedly rummaged through her baggage for some robes. Once the Queen was dressed to meet their 'visitors' they left to face the incoming threat.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

As Harry, Fleur and Yordanka left the Governor-General's house he spoke to the Queen. "Your Majesty," he began, "if there is a floo here then I can call my Ministry and arrange for a squad of Aurors to come help us."

She considered his suggestion for a moment before shaking her head. "The floo is not set up to permit entry; that is why we have to use the portal to travel here. To reconfigure it and get your people ready would probably take too long, 'Arry. We will go there and throw these people out ourselves." She smiled at him. "It will not take long. You can stay here if you wish?"

Harry firmly rejected this. "We are allies, Your Majesty. Britain stands at your side and therefore so do I."

Fleur's smile widened; she nodded and the three followed the messenger to where the Royal Guard were waiting, just out of sight of the confrontation.

Fleur, flanked by two of her guards (and with the remainder stood protectively close by them), strode forward to face the leader of the invading forces. On one side of the trio stood the Governor-General with two of her guards; on the other stood Harry, who stared at them intently. More than one of the intruders raised their eyebrows at the sight of a man among the Veelas though most kept their eyes on the women around them; wands had been drawn by people on both sides.

"I am Fleur Delacour, Queen of the Veela Nation. By what right do you enter my lands?" she demanded.

"These lands are Bulgarian territory and these _creatures_ are property of the Bulgarian Ministry," the lead wizard replied scathingly. "You have no jurisdiction here. All of these creatures are to be taken to Prague as a gift to our Czech _friends_." In the midst of his ire for the description of the Veelas Harry noted the way the wizard had uttered that last word; it appeared all was not well between the two nations and Harry wondered if this was a fissure in the Empire that its opponents could hope to exploit in time; he made a mental note to investigate it at a more opportune time, or at least to pass the information on to his dad and Remus.

Fleur's blood was beginning to boil at the Bulgarian wizard's words and attitude. He ignored this but his eyes fell on Harry; comprehension formed as he recognised him from his style of robes and the likeness to his father.

"British," he observed indifferently. "You should leave. You have no business here and my government has no quarrel with you." The word _yet_ went unspoken by everyone; Harry was enough of a diplomat not to push relations with the Empire in a more negative direction, though he knew that conflict between them would come soon enough.

"These people are my subjects," Fleur interjected, sweeping her arm in the direction of the red-clad Veelas. "You will not remove any of them."

"These _creatures_ ," the soldier contradicted her, again emphasising what he thought of the occupants of the village, "belong to Bulgaria and her Ministry of Magic. We will decide what happens to them." He then made the mistake of pointing his wand at the Veela monarch; there was only ever going to be one response to that action.

The Royal Guard sprang into action; the two women stood beside Fleur quickly moved in front of her, their wands now pointing between the Bulgarian wizard's eyes while the remainder of the squadron began to transform into their avian forms. Seeing this, and the threat to their monarch, the denizens of the exclave began to stow their wands and, instead, transform as well; the invaders were quickly surrounded while fireballs began materialising in the avian-women's hands. The soldiers' response was that any remaining wands were drawn and trained on the Veelas with a tense stand-off developing.

"Fleur, the first spell will lead to carnage," Harry warned quietly as he sidled up to her, replacing the guard who now stood protectively in front of her Queen; he had reluctantly drawn his own wand in a show of solidarity with Britain's new allies, and in defence of the Queen. He would much prefer, however, not to use it (joking that he was the lover, Neville was the fighter when they'd been younger; he had always excelled at Defence but struggled to bring himself to actually _attack_ an adversary). The Veela Queen, herself now transformed, stared at him, somewhat annoyed that he had publically referred to her in familiar terms; as he held her avian gaze the fireball in her hand began to shimmer and die. She turned back to the general, who looked decidedly less certain of his position now that he and his cohort were surrounded by the flame-wielding women. All of his fellow soldiers' wands were glowing with nervous magic and the air itself seemed to thicken with tension as each second ticked by.

Fleur forced herself to revert to her human form. "You should stand down," she told the Bulgarians in a forced-calm voice. "Leave my lands," she demanded, "there is no need for bloodshed between us."

"We have our orders from the Ministry," the General replied, before glancing nervously around him and making his counter offer. "We are prepared to grant you and your Entourage safe passage out of here but the rest will come with us."

"Unacceptable," Fleur snarled. "These people are a part of my nation; I will not see them taken from their homes and from my lands!"

 _And therein lies the problem_ , Harry noted; _the Veelas see this as their lands, the Bulgarians think it's theirs_. More important, however, was the Bulgarian viewpoint that the Veelas were no more than cattle – a resource or a _possession_ to be moved about, traded or given away at the behest of their leaders.

"That is the only offer available to you," the General replied simply; Harry knew now that bloodshed was unavoidable.

His words to the Queen proved prophetic, albeit he was unable to prevent the outcome he feared. As the invaders continued to insist that they deport the native Veelas, a nervous young woman, seeing a spark fly, however harmlessly, off an equally young and equally troubled antagonist's wand, panicked and threw a fireball at one of the wizards threatening her; he screamed as his robes ignited. Harry, Fleur and Yordanka shared a collective gasp as the battle began.

One of the Bulgarian's colleagues cast a quick _Aguamanti_ to extinguish his robes while another downed his young assailant with the sickly green light of a killing curse. This act elicited screams of fury from the watching women and the air was quickly filled with spells and fireballs instead of just tension.

"Stun if you can," the Bulgarian General reminded his troops. "We need to take the creatures alive."

With them surrounding the intruders, and with the soldiers' preference for non-lethal force, the Veelas began to gain the upper hand; most of the warriors were forced to cast shields and water charms in an attempt to douse the storm of fireballs heading in their direction. Their shield charms were never designed to take this level of punishment and one by one they began to fail; cries of pain following as fire and spells cut through the Bulgarian ranks.

Seeing the tide of battle heading so heavily against them saw the General fire off a messenger Patronus; a stray flaming ball struck him as he did, only to ricochet back towards its caster. The Veela responsible hurriedly ducked under it and a tree in the ball's path was quickly reduced to ash.

Harry could feel the eyes of more than one Veela, including their Queen, on him as this happened. Unlike the women, who were now avoiding the Bulgarian leader, Harry quickly fired a stunner at him, trusting that the 'sample' robes' shield would have worn off after repelling the spell. This proved to be the case and the army's leader slumped to the ground. Far from sowing confusion into the attackers' ranks, however, it served only to galvanise them and the increasingly desperate wizards returned fire with renewed intensity.

The response to the General's message was swift; three new squads of Bulgarian troops, all larger than the initial group, apparated into the village; they were shocked at the scene and the punishment being dished out to their compatriots but quickly recovered their poise and joined the attack, firing spells indiscriminately at the Veelas, though, mindful of their overall orders, they too tended to stick to stunners and incarcerating spells, especially towards the ladies in red.

As their neighbours fell beside them, more and more of the Veela had to turn to meet this new threat; suddenly instead of surrounding their foes it was now _they_ who were surrounded. The battle had swung decisively in the invaders' favour.

Fleur turned to meet the new threat; she managed to personally incinerate a dozen Bulgarians by the time her Royal Guard had been decimated; almost all of them lay dead or seriously wounded around her – their job being to protect her at any cost. Seeing a wand pointing in the Queen's direction while her focus was elsewhere, Harry fired a slashing hex at its master, intending to simply cut the wizard's wand arm and force him to drop his weapon. The young diplomat watched in horror, however, as his adrenaline both caused his aim to be off and his spell power to increase; the wizard who had been threatening the Queen collapsed on the ground spewing blood onto the soil from the gaping hole between his shoulder and the front of his neck. Harry had no time to reflect on what he'd just done, however, as his act saw the hostiles beginning to look in his direction; with their wands began to train on him he slammed a piercing hex clean through the body of the nearest Bulgarian attacker and he too crashed to the earth, coating his neighbours in a liberal amount of blood and gore.

With just one of the Royal Guard standing and many of the native and visiting Veelas either incapacitated or dead, fresh pops signifying the arrival of yet more Bulgarian reinforcements caused Harry to call out to the monarch.

"Fleur! Call your people together. There's too many of them; we have to get out of here while we still can!"

The Queen glared at him for a moment before she saw yet more Veelas falling to the ground out of the corner of her eye. Raising her (still transformed) head she screeched what to Harry was unintelligible but clearly meant something to the Veelas. The remnants of her group, along with almost all of the women of the exclave who still stood, rushed to her side in a cluster – blowing a path through the Bulgarians with their fireballs as they did. As Harry turned he stepped into the path of a curse, taking it on his robes, thankful that it bounced off, striking another of the attackers instead and sending him to the ground, stunned. This caused some hesitation in the aggressors' ranks and allowed Harry and the Veelas to begin their retreat.

Only one red-robed Veela remained standing her ground, flinging spells and fireballs into the troops' midst in a desperate attempt to drive them off despite calls for her to join them. She managed to pin down a group of attackers but eventually superior numbers overwhelmed her and a stunner to the back sent her to the ground; thick ropes being immediately conjured around her.

At the far end of the village, three of the remaining soldiers looked at one another before apparating, rematerialising in front of the retreating pack. They hastily erected shields as Fleur sent a couple of fireballs at them; the flames impacted the shield charms and both fireball and shield shimmered and died before Harry, in the process of taking out one of the trio with a stunner, took another stunner on his robes. This spell was cast at an angle such that it rebounded harmlessly into the undergrowth.

Other Bulgarians had cottoned on to their countrymen's strategy; they, too, apparated into the Veelas' path as they powered past the first wave. Fireballs rained down on them until spellfire began to strike the back of the group as the remaining invaders attempted to form a pincer movement, trapping them between two walls of Bulgarian wizards. Fleur and the last of her guards led the fiery assault on the soldiers ahead of them while the Veela at the back of the group were forced to turn their attention to the new threat, keeping them pinned down but the group's lack of numbers meant it seemed only a matter of time before they were overpowered.

Finally Fleur's battery breached the shielded ranks in front of them; a second Bulgarian had to stop his activities in order to douse his friend's robes and Harry knew this might be the only chance he got; he steeled himself for what he was about to do.

" _Bombarda maxima_ ," he cried – the spell ripped through the gap in the Bulgarian shields and blew the soldiers' line apart, along with more than one wizard exploding in a shower of skin, blood and bone. As the diplomat swallowed down his revulsion and continued on pure adrenaline " _Confringio maxima_!" followed and a conflagration struck the shocked group of attackers – all of whom now had to focus on trying to quench their own burning robes; they threw themselves to the ground to try and extinguish the flames and then help their brethren.

More fireballs and spells continued to pin down the back group of attackers and prevented them from regrouping to stop the Veelas' escape; instead they pursued Harry and the fleeing women towards the cave the entourage had exited from a couple of days earlier.

With each passing second the group drew closer to the safety of the portal back to the castle; the soldiers, though, were not willing to give up on their prey and spells continued to rain down on them, meaning many of the Veelas had to run backwards, fresh fireballs keeping the troops at bay and igniting much of the wooded area around their path. A young red-clad Veela stumbled over a stray root; fortunately for her Harry was by her side and took her hand, helping her keep her balance and pulling her along into the cave as they reached it. The girl regained her balance and, still hand-in-hand, they sprinted towards the wall at the back of the cave; the woman stretched forward her free hand and the two flashed through the portal a fraction of a second before a spell struck the now-solid wall they'd escaped through.

"Can they follow us through?" Harry asked in worried tones as he looked around; the last of the women had passed through into the castle and the escapees were now huddled in the antechamber they'd appeared in; returned to her human form, Fleur shook her head.

"No. Only a Veela can use the portal – which is why you had to be led through it each time."

"What about our friends, those we left behind?" The Veela who still held Harry's hand sounded almost hysterical at the thought.

"Yes," he added, "there was one woman who stood and fought; she helped us get away but I'm surprised she didn't join us."

"She would not leave her sister or daughter behind," Yordanka replied. "Her sister is the teacher at our school; she, and the children, will probably also be captured now," the Governor-General had tears in her eyes at the thought; Harry could also hear sniffles and sobs from some of the other escapees as they overheard the conversation.

"There is nothing we can do now," Fleur shook her head regretfully. "By the time we could gather together enough people to return there they will be gone." She looked at her Governor-General. "Along with all our possessions that were there."

"That is also true," Yoranda agreed sorrowfully, "we have powerful enchantments on my home but they will be able to break them in time and loot it."

Harry bowed his head; he wasn't too concerned about the possessions; he hadn't taken much – not even a second set of charmed robes, given his experience that they could go quite a while without having to be cleaned or recharmed so he wouldn't lose anything of value, just some worn underwear. The death and capture of so many Veelas, from both the exclave and the castle itself, was what filled his thoughts. Aside from the guards, most of the Entourage had escaped along with a handful of the red-robed women but so many (apparently including children) had been left to their fate – and that clearly was not going to be a pleasant one.

 _Veela Village,_

 _Skalen venetz_

Now revived, the General looked around the village; the stench of burning flesh filled the air and he could tell that many of his squadron had been killed. In his anger he turned to the revived Veela; selecting a blue-clad woman restrained by thick, conjured ropes he spat in her face before casting a killing curse. The imprisoned women wailed as the light left her eyes and she slumped to the ground. An _incendio_ later and yet another burning corpse littered the village.

"Not so funny when it's one of yours, is it?" he bellowed at the captives. "Is it?" he screamed at Nadezhda. "Crucio!"

Her shrieks filled the air, intensifying the wailing from the horrified watching and listening Veela. After a minute of the excruciating torture the General lifted his wand; Nadezhdasank to her knees and he kicked her in the side. She fell to the ground on her side and a second kick, to the stomach followed, leaving her on her back.

"Sir," one of his men called; he had come from a building on the outskirts of the village and was dragging a woman with him. "We found a school, or nursery or something. Whatever it is there are young Veela there."

"Very good," he smiled, stroking his hair in thought. "Perhaps we can 'distribute' these girls among proper Bulgarian wizards and rebuild our Veela population over time, just sending the adults to Prague."

The Bulgarian leader then turned to his troops, ordering them to gather up their prisoners. "Take them to the cells under the Ministry," he ordered. "The others we were seizing from elsewhere in the country should be there already." The Bulgarian Minister, Oblansk, had also been forced to order that any Veela living in other communities in the country also be rounded up for deportation, much to his chagrin. "I will present my report for Minister Oblansk and then we will prepare them for transport to their new home." He stepped up to one of the younger women, she looked to be around eighteen and trembling; with two vicious tugs he ripped her red robes from her body, causing her shakes to intensify as the soldiers, and General, leered at her. "I don't think _any_ of you will need those where you're going," he taunted. A wave of his hand was signal enough for his men; they began apparating back to Sofia with their captives.

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

"Listen up!" To Harry's surprise the shout came from Gabrielle; the chatter between the women from the exclave and the denizens of the castle subsided and all eyes turned to the speaker. "If you are new to the castle, please come with me and I will show you to your rooms. We will be taking dinner in one hour if you wish to join us."

As the red-robed immigrants prepared to go with her, Harry came over for a quick word. "I do not feel up to dining in public tonight," he admitted, "could I please have something brought to my suite."

"Of course, Ambassador," she nodded. In a quiet voice she pressed on, "Are you ok? Were you hurt today?"

"No," he shook his head, "but I need to speak to my Minister about what has happened."

The young Veela bit her lip and restrained herself to a small nod of her head and another "of course." She watched him go with a rueful expression on her face before turning to the waiting women. "If you will follow me, please," she gestured towards the passage she wished them to take.

 _Ambassador's Suite_

An hour later Harry still stood under the shower in his bathroom; he still felt unclean as he tried in vain to wash away the memories of what he'd done and the spells he'd cast. He heard a knock on the door over the sound of the running water; turning off the shower he heard a voice advising him that his meal had been delivered.

Harry called out his thanks as he stepped out of the shower; he quickly dried himself off before wrapping the towel around his waist and heading out into his suite's small kitchenette and picking at the food that had been supplied.

After he'd eaten he knew he needed to speak to his father in their official capacities; a quick call to the British Ministry yielded no results so he called their home floo.

"Dad? Are you there?"

"Harry?" His father's face appeared in the fire moments later. "Harry! How was the visit to the Veela village?"

"Not good," he admitted before launching into a tale of what had transpired during the day; James grew more and more ashen as the story continued.

"Hold on, your mother's going frantic here with only hearing one side of the conversation." Harry waited patiently as James filled Lily in on what their son had told him; he wasn't remotely surprised that it was her head that next appeared in the floo.

"Oh Harry, son, are you ok? Are you injured?" she asked frantically.

"I'm not hurt, mum," he replied carefully. "A couple of curses hit my robes but were deflected. I'm more worried about the women who _were_ hurt – or worse – and the ones we had to leave behind."

Lily didn't look convinced; Harry continued to try to reassure her before asking to speak to his father again. "I have some more official business to discuss," he added; she nodded and reluctantly withdrew her head from the fire to allow James to speak to him.

"Dad, we _did_ have some positive news earlier in the trip, that there's some animosity between the Bulgarians and the Czechs. I also found out that there was a lot of unrest between the Veelas and the Empire – not that it matters too much since they were going to move them all out of Bulgaria anyway," he frowned at the thought of some of his information now being a dead end. "Unfortunately I think most of the Bulgarian witches and wizards are fairly comfortable under them, like Sirius suspected, so they probably wouldn't partake in any uprising." James nodded.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"Just one thing – the leader of the Bulgarian forces was wearing the shield-charmed robes that the Weasley twins gave to Malfoy. They took one spell before I knocked him out with a stunner."

"Well that certainly strengthens the link between the Empire and Malfoy's little gang. It would probably enable us to increase the severity of any charges that were brought against others; it could also be enough to depose any of them who sit on the Wizengamot…" he trailed off as he pondered the possibilities.

Harry chatted to his parents in turn a little longer; both now focussed on how he was rather than what he'd been up to. The one question that remained unasked – and it was information Harry certainly didn't intend to volunteer – was whether or not he had actually killed anyone himself.

 _Bulgarian Ministry of Magic,_

 _Sofia, Bulgaria_

The General's proposal was well received; Oblansk looked positively jubilant at the idea. "This is, indeed, an excellent solution, my friend," he praised the soldier. "That fool Svoboda may have stolen our Veelas from us but we will have our own again; these creatures are, after all, a symbol of our great country."

"I would suggest no more than one or two per magical population; it would not do for them to band together again," the General cautioned.

"Indeed," Oblansk nodded his assent. "And we must ensure that they are placed with trusted people, of course… senior army members and high-ranking politicians," he added with a smile.

"That would ensure that, eventually of course, they were repopulated with the appropriate bloodline, having been taught to accept their place and duty in our society," the army leader agreed.

"We have twelve of the young creatures in the cells?" the Minister sought to confirm; the General nodded. "Very well. Choose four people you trust from our armed service; I will allocate the other eight."

The General saluted and left the office, smiling to himself as he did; he already knew where _one_ of the young Veelas would spend the rest of her days.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown,_

 _Friday, 14_ _th_ _November 2003_

Harry awoke yet again; he had slept fitfully all night, his dreams haunted by the events of the previous day. Closing his eyes again called to mind the blasting spell he'd fired – the blood showering over the ground and other soldiers, the body parts flying in all directions, the stench of blood and of burning flesh from the scene of the carnage. Not for the first time this night he'd woken in a cold sweat. He sighed and struggled out of bed, padding over to the room's window. Peeling back the curtain he could see the first light of dawn just beginning to peep over the hills. Harry groaned, knowing that he wouldn't get any more sleep now. His stomach lurched as he suddenly thought he could smell blood again; the metallic taste seemed to fill his mouth. Clapping a hand over his face he made it to the bathroom and dry-heaved over the toilet for a few moments before righting himself and taking a few deep, steadying breaths. He stepped up to the sink and, grabbing a brush, he began to scrub at his hands under the running water, desperately trying to feel clean again.

Half an hour later his hands were raw and bleeding, but nothing had helped Harry with the feeling of uncleanliness that he was experiencing.

The sound of someone at the door drew him from the bathroom; he answered the cautious-sounding knock to reveal Gabrielle stood outside, holding a tray.

"Good morning Ambassador," she smiled warmly at him. "The Queen has asked to see you in thirty minutes so I thought I would bring your breakfast here," she breezed past him and set it down on the table. Her eyes widened as she turned back to face him and saw his hands. "Excellency, you are hurt! I thought that you had not been injured," she frowned in confusion.

"There was so much blood, so much death," he began to mumble incoherently; his first words since speaking to his parents last night and the events of the previous day were really beginning to sink in. "Never be clean again," he continued to ramble.

The young Veela looked sympathetically at him. She took his bloody hands in her own and closed her eyes, allowing some of her magic to bleed out into them. The skin repaired itself and suddenly his hands looked as good as new. "It will take time for you to come to terms with what has happened, Ambassador," she told him, "it is true for anybody when they are put in that situation, but scrubbing the skin off your hands will not help you to feel clean again. I thank you for keeping our Queen, and as many of the others as you could, safe – and for helping to get them away from there. Now, please enjoy your breakfast before you have your meeting with the Queen."

Gabrielle bowed deeply and left the room; a thoughtful Harry sat at the table and began to eat his meal.

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _Sofia, Bulgaria_

The day had started badly for the Bulgarian Minister; Emperor Karkaroff had demanded a report from Oblansk on the rounding up of the Veelas and he was extremely unhappy to learn that it had taken several squadrons of troops to perform this task. That there had been numerous fatalities in their ranks also angered the Russian; it was an anger he ensured that the Bulgarian was well aware of, dismissing him with threats to his position ringing in his ears while he himself contacted Svoboda to arrange the prisoners' transfer to Prague.

Following his meeting with the Emperor, a shaken Oblansk had again summoned his General. "Karkaroff was displeased that we needed and, especially, _lost_ so many of our forces in rounding up the Veelas. What he, and _I_ , wish to know is how those creatures did so much damage to our ranks? I did not think they were that powerful."

"On their own they might not have. As you saw, we captured – and killed – some Veelas from their home land as well as those living in our own lands; their Queen was there for a visit." The Minister turned to look at him at this disclosure. "I invited her to leave in peace as we only needed our own creatures," he saw Oblansk frown a bit but the Minister would have to concede that it was a better alternative than the pitched battle and loss of troops they'd experienced, "but she refused. She also had help…" This garnered Oblansk's attention. "The British Ministry is on their side – I recognised the Minister's own son being among them. He cast spells on us and was responsible for the deaths of more than one Bulgarian."

"So Britain stands against us then," Oblansk scowled. "Very well. I shall speak to our man in the ICW and get him to demand that Britain surrender him to us."

"Potter won't turn over his own son to us," the General protested; to his surprise his superior actually smiled at this.

"I know. And when he refuses it will be taken as approval of his actions – we can, if we wish, interpret that as an act of war. And a war against the entire Empire is one that he will not want any part of; we can make him choose between the two. His allies will also soon disappear; none of them would wish to take us on either," Oblansk stated confidently. The Bulgarian Minister was happier now; he had a scapegoat he could point Karkaroff towards and also distract him with the prospect of a lengthy conflict that would take all of his attention and forces, leaving the Bulgarian secure in his own position for some time to come.

In the meantime he had a more pleasant meeting to look forward to; he would be calling seven of his most trusted advisors and deciding on how to distribute the young captives who weren't destined for Prague.

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown,_

Harry walked the path to the Queen's office, occasionally coming across some of the women from the exclave; they still wore red, rather than the blue of the castle's residents, and all smiled at him and nodded their thanks, overcoming the language barrier with the gratitude evident in their eyes.

On arrival in her office and meeting the monarch, however, he learnt that their view was not shared by Fleur; on the contrary, the Queen was in a furious mood and was not remotely minded to hide or temper her ire.

"We want some answers, Ambassador, and we had better like them," she began, her voice both regal and angry, as soon as he had been shown into the room; tellingly the guard stayed in the room with them, though looking at the Queen had Harry wondering whether she was there to protect _her_ or _him_. "If we don't then we will expel you, make certain that we _never_ have dealings with wizards again and pardon the surviving assailants because we will have _proof_ that they were right after all about your kind."

Like Harry, Fleur had struggled to sleep the previous night. Unlike him it was not primarily her own actions that interrupted her slumbers, rather the painful losses inflicted on her nation and her people; one thing in particular had her now doubting herself and wondering it Harry, on behalf of a global fraternity of wizards, had deceived her and orchestrated the whole thing to destroy her nation from the inside. Consequently she had awoken earlier than normal, in a very bad mood, and immediately sent Harry her summons.

The Briton was visibly rocked back by this verbal assault; he answered the only way he could – honestly.

"Your Majesty, I assure you that I will fully answer any questions that you have. If I cannot then I will pass them on to someone from my Ministry who can."

She glared at him for a long few seconds; his nerves increased as he saw a slight glow in her hands and began wondering if she was about to transform and begin bombarding him with fireballs. "Our first question, _Ambassador_ ," and she filled the word with contempt, "is why Bulgaria had access to shield technology. We were led to believe that this was an innovation from your country so _how_ did it find its way into our enemies' hands? We cannot imagine it happened by accident," she finished accusingly; he wondered if he was imaging it or whether her bone structure really _was_ starting to subtly change.

Harry took a deep breath before explaining how it had come about, how the faction sympathetic to the Empire had used circumstance to persuade Ministry employees to give them access to the tech, though he stressed that it was _just_ a sample – which he proved by it failing after deflecting just one attack. He went on to talk about how they had used them to catch a key financier for the sympathisers in the act of handing them over and how they had subsequently tried and executed him (something that surprised her given his recent vehement plea for clemency over his own attackers) and were now using it to investigate the whole government in order to remove any other potential traitors.

By the end of his spiel the Queen was looking a little more thoughtful but just a fraction less hostile; _at least_ , Harry thought, _her hands have stopped glowing_. Her voice, however, remained icy. "We have _your word_ , Ambassador, that there was no collusion between your country and the Empire over this?"

" _No_ , Your Majesty," he insisted. "As we have told you, we _do_ have a faction sympathetic to the Empire and its aims but our government does _not_ support them; the current regime would never sanction assisting them. _I am here_ because we are seeking allies to stand _against_ them, we are looking to _stop_ them from expanding their lands." His annoyance was rising at this grilling, given his recent lack of sleep, that his own life had been in danger and that he'd had to _take_ lives to protect his allies. "Might I remind you also, _Your Majesty_ ," he was now failing to keep the anger out of his voice, "that I spoke to the Minister this past weekend and he knew of my plans to accompany you to Bulgaria; I can say with confidence that the Minister would not put _his son's life_ in jeopardy like that. Remember also that yesterday I suggested calling on our Aurors to help stand against the intruders and _you_ declined that offer."

Fleur returned his glower; she was unaccustomed to having people speak to her in that way and it caused her to think on his words for a few moments. Her position, however, meant that she couldn't back down, although Harry's last statements made her think she'd overstepped the mark with her accusation.

"Very well," she settled for, "Court shall be convened and we shall discuss this; once a decision is made you will be summoned again."

The guard opened the door and Harry took the hint that it was time he left; mindful of his position he forced himself to keep his shoulders from slumping at the way his professional (and almost certainly personal) relations with the Queen had deteriorated until the door had been closed behind him. Back in the office, and behind the closed door, Fleur sat down heavily in her chair; she dismissed her guard with a wave before sighing wearily and leaning backwards, eyes closed as she thought back on everything that had occurred in the past few hours.

* * *

A knock on the door drew the Queen from her musings and her day of self-imposed isolation; she'd had meals delivered to her and sent messages to the courtiers about the forthcoming meeting but otherwise she hadn't seen or spoken to anyone since dismissing Harry and the last of her Royal Guards.

"Gabbi? Hi," she smiled as the younger girl looked around the door, waving her inside.

"How are you, my sister?"

The Queen sighed. "It has been a difficult few days," she observed. "The deaths of so many of us, the loss of our exclave, the survivors we had to leave behind to be captured…" she trailed off, tears on her cheeks as the events weighed heavily upon her once again. She shook her head to clear it. "What of those that we _did_ save?"

"The newcomers are settling in well I think," she revealed. "They have been made welcome and, while of course they miss their homes and feel anger at the capture of their sisters, they are grateful to be here and safe." Her next observation slightly surprised her older sibling. "They also feel very grateful towards the Ambassador for his help; I have seen the way they look at him."

"Really?" Fleur was surprised to hear their viewpoint was so at odds with her own.

"He killed to protect them, and to protect _you_ ," she continued, almost conversationally; then she turned to her sister with a sorrowful look on her face. "And it has hurt him. This morning he…" Fleur looked back at her as she trailed off, silently demanding that she continue; Gabbi sighed, hating herself for betraying his confidence, "his hands were blooded, he had washed and scrubbed them so much, trying to cleanse them, cleanse _himself_ in his mind of the blood he spilt so he could feel clean, feel _human_ again. He is a brave man, to stand alongside our people when the Bulgarians told him that he should just step aside, that they had no quarrel with him and his country. Instead he did what he did for us, his and his country's allies, for _his_ friends…" she finished with a determined look at the older Veela.

Fleur put her head in her hands; with her sister's words she was able to reflect differently on the events of the past week. The monarch suddenly felt terrible for what she'd said to Harry earlier in the day, though she could squash the feeling and justify her actions to herself by reminding herself that she _had_ to know what had happened and who was involved but to have gone that hard after him it when transpired that he, too, was suffering as a result of what had occurred… suddenly it left a nasty taste in her mouth.

"I have called an emergency session; I will be speaking to the court tomorrow morning. I will bring up your observations with them then." She looked at her sister and managed a smile. "Thank you, Gabrielle."

The younger girl returned her smile and gave a small nod before leaving a more thoughtful and contemplative Queen behind.

 _Saturday, 15_ _th_ _November 2003_

"Good morning," Fleur greeted the court, calling it to order; several of them appeared a little bleary-eyed as the meeting was taking place before breakfast, which was an unusual occurrence. "Thank you for attending this session, which has been called to discuss our response to the events in our exclave yesterday." The assembled Veela nodded; all knew, of course, what had happened by now.

"Yordanka, would you like to say anything more about the situation?"

The now former Governor-General stood, bowing to her monarch. "Your Majesty, esteemed members of the court, I thank you for the hospitality you have shown us since we arrived here. Alas, of the hundred and fifteen women in our village, only fourteen of us were able to escape." She bowed her head. "Among those abandoned were twelve children in our school, and their teacher. While we can hope they remained hidden, we must assume that they were rounded up with the others and taken away."

"Could we check the village? See if they are still there?" one courtier asked.

"I will go," Danielle volunteered immediately; a number of other Veelas also spoke up to offer themselves for the job.

"Silence!" Fleur demanded as the clamour grew; her order was instantly obeyed. "While your willingness to undertake this mission is appreciated, we cannot risk the loss of any more of our number. There remains the risk that the soldiers have stationed some of their number in our village in the hope of capturing any returning Veelas. Therefore we will not sanction such a trip."

Yordanka looked upset at this declaration, as did a number of other courtiers; they accepted, however, both that the Queen's position was logical and, crucially, that her word was law.

"What of the British Ambassador?" Danielle asked. "Could he ask some of his countrymen to come over and look for us? If they could pass for non-magicals then their presence in the village, if they _were_ discovered, would draw fewer questions and they could get the information on the girls for us."

"An excellent idea," Yordanka agreed. "His efforts yesterday showed that the Ambassador is a true friend and trustworthy ally for us," Fleur squirmed at this statement, "and he would surely be willing to help us," she concluded. Her statement heaped more confusion on to the Queen; _am I really the only one who suspects him and his country of wrongdoing?_ She asked herself. _Maybe it is time to re-evaluate what happened_.

"Your Majesty?" She looked up at the prompting. "Do you wish to ask this of the Ambassador?"

"We will be meeting later. If it goes well then we will discuss the proposal."

The courtiers exchanged confused looks at the Queen's phraseology; she felt compelled to elaborate, thus bringing conversation round to the main purpose of convening the session. "Yesterday's attacks showed that the Bulgarians had in their possession armour that originated in the British Ministry of Magic; Britain's trustworthiness has, consequently, been called into question."

This caused audible murmuring and discussions between members of the court; most of them knew Harry fairly well and, despite any initial prejudices they may have had, they found it hard to believe that he was conspiring against them.

"Your Majesty, if I may," Yordanka spoke up, "I do not believe that the British betrayed us. The Ambassador fought beside us when he was given every opportunity to step aside. He also worked to ensure that as many of us as possible escaped from them.

"That seems to be a prevailing viewpoint," Fleur conceded. "However we must consider the possibility that they are in league with the Empire." She could see that few in the room were convinced, other than the hardliners who had opposed the treaty in the first place.

"Your Majesty, has this wizard been questioned on this matter?" one of them asked.

"He has, and he has denied his or his country's involvement," she revealed. "As we heard this is something many of us believe, based on his personal actions. Do any of you feel he should be under suspicion?" She was almost pleading for people to do so, to show that she was not alone in her interpretation. Aside from a couple of the more extreme members, however, it seemed that she _was_ alone in that view, especially as the women from the enclave seemed unanimous in their praise for his actions.

* * *

Harry again found himself summoned to the Queen's office; it was late in the morning, almost 10 am, and he was extremely nervous about the meeting, fearing the worst, that the alliance was over and that he was going to be expelled back to Britain, his first mission a failure – not to mention how he still felt over his actions in the village, despite Gabrielle healing his physical wounds. While he had refrained from scrubbing his hands, he _had_ washed them a lot; they retained a redness from the amount of hot water he had used on them. Added to this his previous night's sleep had been no better than the night before, though this time the outcome of Fleur's discussions with the court also weighed heavily on his mind, and the young diplomat was in a far from ideal state of mind.

The guard seemed a little more relaxed this time; she let him in but did not join him in the room – something he took as a good sign, especially as he and Fleur were alone in the room.

"Your Excellency," the Queen began formally, "after discussions with the court, and its newest member our former Governor-General, we can assure you that we have no interest in terminating the alliance between us; on the contrary," she took a deep breath, "we wish to thank you for your actions yesterday. You helped to save many Veelas' lives and to ensure that several of our people made it here to safety."

Harry was almost floored by this _vault face_ ; his surprise was written large over his face, much to the Queen's evident amusement, despite the seriousness of the whole issue. She dropped her formal tones and continued, "'Arry, on a personal note I wish to apologise for yesterday. I was angry at what had happened and saw plots everywhere that I looked. I should not have been looking at you, given that your actions protected so many."

"You saw an attack on your people and that one of our products was in enemy hands; you were right to be suspicious," he replied a little stiffly; Fleur bowed her head.

"But I should not have been suspicious of _you_ ," she insisted. "I should have taken the time to see the whole picture before I jumped in and accused you. That will not happen again." When Harry remained silent she elaborated, "It is one of the down-sides of being Veela; sometimes our passions get the better of us. Sometimes we struggle to stop and think things through."

Fleur was now panicking at Harry's lack of reaction, especially as she needed to ask a favour of him and his country in the aftermath of what had happened. She was desperate for anything, any sign of some acknowledgement that he wouldn't be holding her accusations against her and that _he_ and Britain were still interested in their alliance.

"Ambassador?" she prompted hopefully.

"Your accusation hurt a lot," he replied, speaking very formally, "both personally – in light of what I went through fighting by your side yesterday – and in the suggestion that my country had an ulterior motive. As I said I can understand your suspicions and I am glad that the alliance is continuing but I still wish to make you aware of our disappointment." He let out a short sigh before continuing in equally formal tones, "I remain hopeful that this is simply because it is early in our dealings, that we still require time to become better acquainted with each other's cultures and that issues such as these will be handled differently as that happens."

Fleur bowed her head again; this was going to be even more difficult than she thought. "I hope so too, Ambassador." She allowed a few seconds of strained silence to tick by before feeling she had to continue with what she needed to say. "While the timing may not be ideal, Your Excellency, I do have another matter that I must raise with you. It is an urgent matter so I am afraid it cannot wait for us to repair relations with you."

"You wish to know what happened to those in the exclave that we had to abandon?" he guessed.

"Indeed," she nodded. "The fate of the women we can assume – those who live will be sent to the Czech Republic. It is the children whose fate we are unsure of. We do not know if they remained hidden or were discovered, and if so what has happened to them. I dare not send scouts in case there are still soldiers in the area as they would surely abduct any Veelas they encountered so I was hoping that some of your people could look, perhaps they could pretend to be non-magicals who just happened to stumble across the village if they encounter any trouble?"

Mindful of the alliance, and having a personal desire to ensure that the children were ok, or to see them liberated if they had been kidnapped, Harry easily quashed any desire to tell the Queen where she could shove her request. "I can do better than that, Your Majesty," he replied. "I have in my possession an invisibility cloak; I could use it to scout the area myself."

"Really? That would be greatly appreciated. I will have someone accompany you if I may? That way you may easily use the portal."

Harry nodded. "We should do this as quickly as possible, to bring the girls here or begin to plan a rescue attempt as the case may be. If you wish I could meet your representative by the portal in one hour?"

Fleur nodded, delighted that, even if things might be awkward between her and Harry on a personal level, the alliance they had invested so much in was still on track.

* * *

Harry was a little surprised to learn the identity of his colleague; Danielle was waiting for him when he reached the portal area.

"I volunteered," she explained in response to his questioning look. "Ideally we would have asked one of the women of the exclave but I do not think any of them wished to be reminded of what took place so we decided to choose somebody who was not part of it."

He nodded his understanding; the Veela took his hand and, after he threw his invisibility cloak over them both, led him through the portal back into Bulgaria.

 _Veela Village,_

 _Skalen venetz, Bulgaria_

The first thing they noticed on arrival was how little of the village was left; many of the buildings had been reduced to rubble, with more than one still smouldering. "Nobody here," Danielle muttered as they shuffled into the village, still under the cloak.

"It doesn't look like it," Harry agreed a little more cautiously. " _Homonem Revilio_ ," he pointed his wand in front of them and rotated them on the spot to perform a 360° sweep. "No, nobody hiding – wizard _or_ Veela," he added sombrely before removing the cloak from them and slipping it into his pocket.

"The school was over here," his guide pointed to the building and they made their way over. While not doubting his word she felt compelled to check it for herself. "Deserted," she growled after peering through the window; the signs of a struggle were evident.

"It was always likely that the village would be, after all this time," Harry replied sombrely. "It's also pretty clear that the people in here have been taken by force. That so many of the houses have been destroyed as well – well, safe to say we pissed them off by fighting back."

The duo quickly toured what was left of the village; true to Fleur's prediction, the Gubernatorial mansion had been stripped bare.

"Good job I didn't bring anything important," Harry muttered. "Come on," he urged her, striding away from the building, "we need to get back to the castle so I can contact my government."

"What about?" she asked, hurrying to keep up with him.

"About rescuing the children who have been kidnapped," he replied simply, though there was an undercurrent of power to his voice. She smiled gratefully before slipping her hand into his again as they rushed through the village and back towards the portal to her home.

"I must inform the Queen of our findings," Danielle declared once they had returned to the castle; she gave him a small bow and they parted company, Harry heading for his room to contact his father.

* * *

Harry lobbed a handful of floo powder into the fire and called on his parents' home. "Dad?"

"Harry?"

Connection established, Harry quickly filled his father in on the Veela Queen's request; he also mentioned her displeasure at the shielded robes falling into Bulgarian hands. James authorised him to use his judgement to issue an apology if he felt it was necessary; this was something Harry wasn't minded to do, though he didn't mention that to his dad.

"So we need somebody to get to Sofia PDQ and try to rescue these girls?" James summarised; his son nodded.

"I think we need to bring Amelia Bones in on this; it would be her department that led any such action. I'll get back to you in a few minutes." James closed the connection before contacting his head of Law Enforcement; he apologised for bothering her on a weekend but asked her if she could come over. A few moments later she stepped through the floo and James called on his son; at Bones' request, Harry repeated his summary of the situation for the formidable witch and finished off by asking if she had any thoughts on what could be done.

"Leave it with me, Harry," she promised resolutely, "we'll get them back, I can guarantee that."

Harry nodded gratefully; he opted, though, to not share this pledge with his hosts – not just yet anyway.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

 _30 Grove Road,_

 _Ilkley, West Yorkshire, United Kingdom  
_

 _Sunday, 16_ _th_ _November 2003_

A tapping on the window roused Jennifer from her sleep; she smiled at the comfortable feeling of a sleeping Neville pressing against her before groaning as the insistent noise continued. It was still dark outside and a glance at the illuminated numbers of her digital alarm clock on her bedside table told her it was barely 6 a.m. but, as the tapping wasn't going to end any time soon, she wriggled out of her beau's embrace and shook off the bedclothes, shivering at the feeling of the room's cool air against her bare skin. Casting a low-powered _Lumos_ she saw a tawny owl against the window, an envelope clearly tied to one of its legs. The seeker sighed and opened the window, stretching out her other hand to relieve the bird of its burden, only for it to fly past her and land on the head of the still-sleeping Neville; Jen followed its path with her wand, now casting its light over her bed and its remaining occupant.

"What?" he mumbled groggily. "Go 'way, sleeping." The owl pressed a little harder against his head and he raised an arm to swat at it; this was a mistake as the owl dug its talons into his skin a bit more. With a yelp, Neville was suddenly wide awake; he sat up and the owl took flight as he started. It flew one circuit of the bedroom before landing in front of him on the bed; it stared at him for a few seconds until he surrendered and took the note from it, after which it flew back past Jen and out of the still-open window. Jen then hurriedly closed the window again to conserve the house's heat before she hopped back into her warm bed.

"Who's it from?" she asked, using her wandlight to let Neville read his mail.

"Bones," he grumbled. "She's called a meeting of the entire _department_ for this morning! Not just the Aurors or our group, _everybody_."

"On a Sunday? First thing in the morning? What's so urgent that it couldn't wait for tomorrow, or even a more civilised hour?"

Neville shrugged. "No idea," he stifled a yawn behind his hand, "but I'll find out in an hour." He sighed before clambering out of bed. Jen made to do likewise until he bent down and planted a peck on her lips. "Go back to sleep," he offered, "I'll bring you some breakfast before I go."

Fatigue triumphed over all else; Jen nodded gratefully and, after watching Neville head to the bathroom, she extinguished her wand with a whispered " _Nox_ " and soon fell asleep again.

 _Department of Magical Law Enforcement,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

It was a debate as to whether the department personnel were more weary, curious or grumpy when they assembled. Certainly nobody looked overly happy (other than the Auror squad that was currently supposed to be on duty _anyway_ and took a perverse pleasure out of the day shifts being in as well for once). Amelia ignored this as she stood to address her charges.

"Whilst I do have a very good reason for calling everyone in this morning, while we're here I would like to have our weekly meeting; let's start with the main focus of our time last week: an update on how the investigation is going." This only served to increase the mutterings of discontent, though as Bones turned to each team in turn they filled her in on their findings to date: there _was_ a clear link between the Malfoy conspiracy (as it had been dubbed) and some members of the Wizengamot, such as Regulus Black, but they had yet to find any compelling evidence of wrongdoing on Black's part.

"Anything else?" Bones asked her people once she'd been round the Senior Aurors; they, and the others, shook their heads. "Ok, we carry on gathering evidence. But, we have an even _more_ pressing task at hand," she declared, much to the surprise of the assembled Aurors. "One that, officially, _does not_ _exist_ and could, potentially, cause us a _whole heap_ of trouble. It could also be dangerous so I ask for volunteers. Rest assured that I will not think any less of any of you if you decline to volunteer."

"Could you tell us what it is first, boss?" Tonks piped up, causing a few sniggers – at least until Bones turned her eyes towards them.

"Last week Acting Ambassador Potter was part of a Royal visit to the Veela enclave in Bulgaria. While there they were attacked by Bulgarian troops intent on deporting the native Veelas." Most in the room gasped; Neville, of course, had heard most of this from his father via the Minister. "There was a battle and the Ambassador, the Queen and some of the others escaped. I spoke to Mr Potter last night and he is uninjured. However, he returned to the enclave yesterday to see if anybody was left; a number of children from the village are missing, presumed captured by the Empire's troops. Bluntly we're going to send a task force to break into their Ministry and steal them back if they're there."

"It's one almighty risk on a 'maybe' boss," Tonks supplied after a few moments of stunned silence, during which the DMLE staff attempted to absorb the information and proposal. "It would be a _major_ international diplomatic incident if we were caught there."

"I'm aware of that, Tonks, but we have no idea where else they could be. Even if they're _not_ there we might be able to get a lead on them."

"I'm in," Neville declared. "Harry's found himself involved in all of this so I'm going to do whatever I can to help."

"They're our allies, they need our help; I'm in too," Nymphadora agreed. "Besides you _need_ me to lead this, boss."

"Oh?" Bones bristled a bit at the presumptuous claim. In response Tonks changed her appearance into a facsimile of a blue-eyed, blonde-haired Veela.

"Who else can do this and try to put some frightened Veela children at ease?" she asked. "No offence, Nev, but if a bunch of wizards come up to their cell in the middle of the night then I doubt you'll calm them much."

"A good point, Tonks," Bones was forced to admit.

With the rest of Neville's team also among the many who volunteered for the task Bones decided to send that team, as they were used to working together, along with Tonks for her metamorphmagus abilities. The five would take a commercial portkey to Sofia, using forged documents, in the morning, spend the day scouting out the Ministry and attempt to break in overnight.

With the meeting concluded Neville hastened to the floo, eager to spend the rest of their mutual day off with his girlfriend.

 _Bulgarian Ministry of Magic,_

 _Sofia, Bulgaria_

"Ok, time to move out," the captain of the Bulgarian guards bellowed as he strode to the large cell that housed the captured Veelas. The women were quickly on their feet, stood protectively around the few remaining younger girls as they tried to keep them calm and as safe as they could. Many of the women adopted an aggressive stance towards their captors, fireballs beginning to shimmer into existence as they faced down the wizards' threat to the younger members of their sisterhood.

The wizards responded with a mass of stunners firing through the bars of the cell, bars that were too narrow to allow the Veelas to return fire effectively. Once all the women had been downed, the cage was opened and the unconscious adult Veelas were levitated out of it, the four younger girls left behind and still stunned.

* * *

"So," the border guard eyed the Aurors, in plain clothes, warily, "you are a group of Irish wizards – and witch," he nodded at Tonks, "here for a holiday?" He repeated their cover story in heavily accented English.

"That's correct," Neville confirmed, trying to mimic the accent of his dorm-mate of seven years, Seamus Finnegan, "we're just here to see a different country and different culture."

He glared at Neville for a few moments, brow furrowed in concentration, before a sneering smile crept onto his face. "Very well," he gestured for them to pass, "enjoy our beautiful country."

"What happened there?" Lee asked in a low voice. "I know he was trying legilimancy on me but I made sure he couldn't see anything."

"Extra precaution," Neville grinned. "Bones implanted a false memory in my mind, one that confirmed our cover story. When he scanned me I made sure there was enough of a crack in my occlumancy to allow him to see it. _That's_ why he smiled, he thought I was trying to keep him out and he got through – only I _let_ him through to see what I _needed_ him to see, which is why he let us in."

"Now we just need to shake our tail," Tonks added; she dropped to her knee, pretending to retie her shoelace while the others glanced around casually, each identifying the man stood unobtrusively in the background but throwing the odd glance their way when he thought nobody was looking.

"Until then, we see some of the sights of muggle Sofia I guess," Zacharias Smith suggested; Neville frowned at the terminology but nodded, retrieving a guide book from his pocket and glancing around for street names, looking for all the world like any other tourist in a foreign city.

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _Prague, Czech Republic_

"This is it?" Minister Svoboda snapped as he ran an eye over the women who had been dumped in his ministry building. "I was led to believe Bulgaria had more than these."

"We were attacked as we went to their main village," Oblansk explained nervously; his nerves came from an angry-looking Emperor Karkaroff standing in the room. "We lost several Bulgarian troops and a number of the creatures escaped to join their queen." He looked sharply at the Emperor. "They were aided by the British," he added, neglecting to add that there was only a single Briton among the group.

"Malfoy warned us that they were allying with them," Karkaroff growled thoughtfully.

"Sire," Oblansk continued, "I intend to have the matter raised through the ICW, demanding the surrender of those involved.

"Of course our other lands will support that," Karkaroff nodded, "but do you think it will happen?"

"No, but implicating the Minister's own son will damage Britain's standing in the ICW," the Bulgarian replied; the Emperor chuckled.

"It will indeed. We can certainly play this to our advantage. Carry on but be warned, Oblansk, embarrassment and loss of troops on the scale you suffered in your mission to these creatures will not be tolerated."

"Of course," he mumbled timidly. With a bow to his master and a glare at his Czech counterpart he left to floo back to Sofia.

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _Sofia, Bulgaria_

Having managed to get some privacy, after shaking off their tail, Tonks used her metamorphmagus ability to change her appearance into one that more closely matched the natives; she also changed into some less conspicuous attire before casually walking into the Ministry through the visitors' entrance.

She returned an hour later, meeting the British wizards at a local café.

"How did it go?" Neville asked.

"Pretty well; I was able to scope out the place and got a fair idea of the ground floor at least," she replied. "I got lucky as well as their Aurors were dragging in someone who was yelling a lot; I didn't have a clue what he was saying, obviously, but they took him down some stairs so I would guess the cells are on the level below the main one."

"That tallies with what I saw," Neville observed. "Legilimency probe," he added when Tonks looked confused. "I saw one guy leaving the building just after you went in and did a quick scan on him; he didn't react to it, and he didn't know _much_ of interest that I could glean, but he knew that the cells were downstairs."

"So now what?" Lee asked.

"Now, we wait for evening, hope that they don't have too many guards on duty overnight – and make sure our hosts don't find us again beforehand."

 _International Confederation of Wizards,_

 _Geneva, Switzerland_

 _Monday, 17_ _th_ _November 2003_

Albus Dumbledore looked despondently around the chamber; most of the wizards in the room looked at least as old as he was, at least a third of them were either sleeping or trying to and even the one currently talking looked like he was desperate to take his nap.

"Any other business?" the Supreme Mugwump asked once the old duffer had finally shut up. "No?" _Of course not, nobody_ ever _has_ anything _interesting to discuss here; it's just a useless talking shop: which is why I was allowed to retain this position_ , he sighed internally, once again lamenting how easily and how completely he had lost his influence and respect under the Crouch-Potter-Longbottom axis. "Then I declare this session closed." He stood up, intent on hastening out of the room.

"Albus, my old friend." Dumbledore found himself obstructed by Aleksandar Minkov, the Bulgarian representative on the body. "I have a… delicate matter to raise with you." He smiled mirthlessly. "It is out of respect for you that I raise it privately, rather than in the chamber."

"Indeed?" Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, suspicious of the other's words and doubtful that he was being given the real reason for this being raised privately. "And what troubles ail our Bulgarian friends?"

"A number of our armed forces were killed last week while going about their Ministry-appointed duties in our own lands." Dumbledore nodded. "One of their assailants was British." The wizened former Headmaster now looked intrigued. "He was your Minister's son." Albus was now _very_ interested in this conversation. "My Minister demands that the Potter scion be handed over to us so that he can stand trial for his crimes against our citizens. You have until the end of the week before we raise it formally in the chamber and seek the Confederation's approval to use force to apprehend him. But as I said," Minkov smiled cruelly again, "out of respect for you we wish to do this through less official means."

"I thank you for your consideration," Dumbledore nodded, working hard to keep his face neutral. "Undoubtedly it is in my country's interest to ensure that we assist you in seeing justice done. I will inform the Minister this afternoon."

Minkov nodded before giving Dumbledore a short bow and leaving. Albus headed for his office, suppressing the happy dance that his insides were doing – of course this was serious but it was also a chance to put James Potter in an impossible position – fitting payback for all he'd done to marginalise the great Albus Dumbledore.

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

"James?" Minister Potter looked up from his desk as he heard Dumbledore's voice in the fire, now with its dancing green flames. He sighed, not particularly wanting to deal with his ICW representative, but reasoned that, such was the animosity Dumbledore had for him, that he wouldn't be calling without a good reason.

"What is it Albus?" he asked.

"May I come through?"

Potter sighed again before acquiescing without enthusiasm. Dumbledore stepped out of the fire a moment later, brushing the ash off his robes; he offered his hand and James shook it politely.

"Today's session had just concluded – only minutes ago – when I was approached for an impromptu discussion," the old wizard began sombrely. "The Bulgarian representative; I'm sorry to say he implicated your son in the attack and slaying of Bulgarian citizens going about their lawful duty."

James bristled, unsure whether the slanted description of events was Dumbledore's or Bulgaria's. "How did you reply?" he asked.

"I told him I would pass on their extradition demand to you." Predictably James looked far from happy at this. "I would counsel you, James, that it is not in the country's interests to antagonise Bulgaria – especially if you believe them to be part of this supposed Empire."

"Dumbledore," James was struggling to contain his anger, "you know as well as I do that the Empire is a real, expanding and dangerous entity…"

" _Not_ as far as the ICW is concerned," Albus interrupted, "but even if it _is_ , all the more reason to not upset them by refusing their demands, informal as they are at this time – and they have warned that they will take this to official channels if they must. Might I remind you, Minister," he continued pompously, "that a large part of your job is to protect and promote Britain's interests internationally, and that those interests are not best served by engaging in hostilities with Eastern European powers. The good of the country is worth more than one man and I think you would agree with that if the man in question was anybody other than your son."

James shook his head at the has-been's audacity. "You should have rejected their demands out of hand! Did you mention that the lands their _soldiers_ ," James emphasised exactly what the Bulgarians were, rather than the implication that they were 'ordinary' wizards going about their business, "were invading was Veela territory?"

"The Bulgarians maintain that the lands, and its inhabitants, are theirs," Dumbledore countered. "They also say that they told both young Harry _and_ the visiting Veelas there to leave them to their business but were attacked. Based on that information I have to say they have grounds to demand his extradition and to escalate things if you refuse."

James shook his head. "Dumbledore, these territories are a sovereign exclave of the Veela nation and they had invaded with the intention of abducting its members and deporting them to the Czech Republic – I suppose I should say _former_ republic as it's _also_ part of your non-existent Empire," he jibed. "Harry was acting in defence of our allies attempting to repel an invading force. You can tell the Bulgarians that, and that he will, under no circumstances, be surrendered to them."

Dumbledore looked sorrowfully at the Minister. "I will pass on your words, Minister, though I fear you are making a grave mistake in rejecting Bulgaria's claim. I only hope that it will not lead us to war – there would be many more casualties than one imprisoned wizard were that to come to pass."

"Your _fears_ are noted," James shot back. "Now, was there anything else from the ICW that we need to be made aware of?"

Albus shook his head and, bidding the Minister good day he returned to the fire to head back to Geneva. James scribbled a quick note to his deputy; a tap of his wand folded the parchment into the shape of a paper aeroplane and a second tap, followed by a wave of his wand to open his office door, saw the note winging its way towards Frank's office.

"Lil," he called; his wife stuck her head around the door. "Frank and Barty are coming for a meeting. Given the circumstances of it, I think you should sit in as well."

"Is there a problem?" she asked.

"You could say that," he sighed.

"Hello James," Frank greeted him as he arrived, along with the Chief Warlock.

"Thank you both for coming, have a seat," he gestured to the chairs by his desk; Barty conjured another (as there were only two) and the three sat down.

"So what's the problem?" Frank prompted.

"Dumblefucker," he snarled; Lily looked at her husband reproachfully while the two other men battled to suppress their snigger at their usual way of describing the self-important Supreme Mugwump.

"What's he done now?" Barty asked, his voice containing a mix of curiosity and resignation, leading to James explaining Bulgaria's demand and Albus's reaction to it.

"He wants you to send our son to Bulgaria?" Lily was horrified; James nodded. "I hope you told him where to shove it."

"Of course," the Minister confirmed, "but he was his usual condescending and supercilious self, claiming that he knows better than everyone else and arguing how it was in our best interests. I think we have to be ready for a whole heap of trouble from Bulgaria in the coming weeks – especially with the other issue involving them." James then proceeded to tell them of the mission he had commissioned for Amelia and the Aurors regarding recovering the young Veelas."

"While I agree with the action, James, and will of course support you in the Wizengamot as it clearly falls under the terms of our alliance to get these girls back, doing this on top of the issue with Harry…" Barty bowed his head in thought. "We need to be careful, James, and we need to be prepared. Things are going to get ugly between us and the Empire before long."

"I know, that's why we went looking for allies," James nodded. "We need to warn our friends of what could happen – France for one and in particular Germany and Austria given they share borders with the Empire. I think we also need to get Remus to step up his contact with the werewolves to see if we can – covertly – help any internal opposition get organised."

"Keep them distracted?" Frank smiled.

"That and an actual war with the Empire would be long, bloody and expensive," Crouch noted.

"And it might not even work," Lily interjected. "An external foe might cause their inhabitants to come together. A far more likely way to defeat it is that it collapses from within as the constituent countries rise up against the whole."

"I'll get on to Remus," James declared, calling the meeting to a close. "I'll arrange for him to speak to Harry and pass on his intel to his contacts."

The other men got up and left the office; Lily lingered.

"Will Harry be ok?" she asked in concern. "If Bulgaria is after him…"

"We're not going to hand him over. And actually, him being in the Veelas' lands means he's probably safer there than he would be here. There's no way that anybody is going to be able to take him from there by force."

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _Sofia, Bulgaria_

Night fell and the Ministry building began to empty. The Britons had disillusioned themselves and snuck back into the Ministry, edging around the jostling throng as they worked their way down the walls, ultimately finding themselves in the atrium, at which point they crept into an empty corridor before dropping their charms.

"This way," Tonks whispered; the five stealthily made their way through the empty corridors. "Nev, what did you learn?"

"I managed a Legilimency probe one of the workers as they were all leaving; the cells are down one level from here."

"Ok, good. I looked earlier; there's a flight of stairs in the corner over there," Tonks pointed the way.

"Alright," Neville addressed the team as they reached the corner of the atrium, "there will still be people around so we need to disillusion ourselves again here." Wands were drawn and the charms cast on one another. Tonks grabbed a fistful of Neville's robes and he did likewise to the wizard closest to him; thus the five formed a chain and made their way, invisible, over to the stairwell.

"Guards," Tonks whispered unnecessarily as they exited the well. "Two of them. Nev, you and I take the one on the right, you three get the other. Stunners on three…" Three seconds later the two guards crashed to the ground as red beams appeared from nowhere, much to their, albeit brief, shock. The Aurors held their breath, waiting to see if they'd been overheard. When nobody came running they crept towards the cells, checking each one by the dimmed light of their wands. Several were occupied with a variety of sleeping (presumed drunk) unkempt-looking wizards but finally they found one large cell containing four young blonde girls with tear-stained faces; all were awake and seemed to be trembling.

Neville cancelled the charm on Tonks and she adopted her Veela appearance again. The oldest of the girls began jabbering at her in rapid, hushed Bulgarian – something of a problem for the Anglophone Tonks. The others reappeared, an action that unnerved the girls, even though Tonks clearly knew them.

"It's ok, we're here to rescue you," Neville tried addressing them in French; the girls seemed to understand, though they remained understandably frightened, and sceptical. The youngest, in particular, had a face that was clearly tear-stained. "I'm Neville, these are Lee, Zach, Michael and Nymphadora – but call her Tonks," he added as the woman glowered as she heard her given name being uttered.

"Is she Veela?" The eldest girl seemed to have taken on the mantle of leading the group; she addressed Neville while pointing to Tonks.

"No, she has the ability to change her form at will," Neville explained, before translating for Tonks; to demonstrate she did just that, something that seemed to both amuse and further terrify the girls in equal measure.

"We're going to get you out of here and take you with us to Britain before we can return you to the Veelas who escaped from your village," Neville promised. "Where are the other girls? We were told about twelve were in your school?"

"They were taken by people in the Ministry," the girl explained; again Neville translated for the group.

"They took my sister," the youngest wailed; the others hurriedly tried to hush and calm her. "The men came and grabbed her – and the others… I'll never see her again," she sobbed.

"It looks like we need to plan to get them back too," Tonks declared once Neville had filled them in.

"Careful, Tonks," Lee cautioned. "If we pull this off tonight there should be nothing linking us to the breakout; with the other girls, though, we'd have to find out who had them and then break into the homes of senior Bulgarian government officials. The chances of us being able to do that without any of us being seen or recognised is minimal; we need it approving at the highest level before we can even think about acting."

Tonks reluctantly nodded before returning her focus to the immediate job at hand; an ' _Alohomora_ ' was sufficient to open the cell (given that all prisoners were disarmed on arrival) and the four girls exited the cell, gratefully but warily following their liberators.

"Can we risk leaving the building or will we have to try the portkey from here?" Neville asked.

"Leaving would be better," Lee commented. "Using a portkey from here might leave a residue they could link to Britain."

"But if we reach the atrium we risk discovery," Tonks countered. "I'd say we go for it from here."

"I'll go up," Neville offered, "disillusioned. You guys follow ten seconds behind."

"What will you do in ten seconds?" Tonks asked him.

"Stun anybody I see," he replied simply.

"I'll go, you need to stay here," Smith told his team leader. "You're the only one here who speaks French well enough to communicate with the girls," he added before casting the charm on himself and creeping upstairs as the others were forced to concede his point.

"Ok you heard the man," Neville told the Aurors; he turned to the Veela children and told them where they were going. They nodded uneasily and followed the five stealthily up the stairs.

When the group reached the atrium they saw a couple of stunned bodies; Lee hit both with another spell for good measure before Smith reappeared close to the building's exit and waved them to him. They hurried over to his location and left as a group into the thankfully deserted neighbourhood that housed the visitors' entrance.

"Hold this," Neville told the girls, proffering a scarf. They, and the other Aurors, held onto the fabric as Neville tapped it with his wand. "Activate," he whispered and they vanished.

 _Bones Manor,_

 _Leominster_

The alarm sounded, signalling that somebody had portkeyed directly into the house. Amelia was expecting company so she hurried to the ante-room the portkey was supposed to deliver them to; she met the two Aurors she had for support just outside the door and together they entered the room. The DMLE director smiled when she saw her task force safe and sound, though she was surprised to see only four girls with them.

"Report, Longbottom," she demanded.

"We got in and out undetected, though we had to stun a handful of people. The other girls have already been taken by Ministry personnel; we don't know who or where," he explained.

"Then we have to see if we can find out by debriefing these young ladies," she turned to the girls and attempted to give them a kind look, something she usually found difficult given her naturally intimidating persona which her working life had forced her to hone. "What are your names?" she asked the girls, who looked blankly at her until Neville translated. "Of course," she muttered.

"I am Marija," the eldest girl introduced herself, "these are Penka, Gergana and Radka," she gestured at her friends. "Where are we?"

Bones racked her brain to retrieve the French she knew. "You are in my home in Britain," she began haltingly. "Don't worry, you are safe here until we can take you to the castle where those from your village who escaped are staying."

"When can we go?" she was asked. "We thank you for freeing us," she addressed Neville directly, "but wish to see who of our families are safe."

"And my sister," the youngest, Radka, piped up. "Please rescue her too!"

He filled his boss in on what they'd learnt about the other eight girls; Bones then tried to glean what other information she could from them. Knowing that they'd seen the men who took the others she flooed the Ministry, asking the night duty Auror to bring a Pensieve over as soon as possible. After a quick explanation Marija willingly contributed her memory of the event, which she and the Aurors reviewed.

"We'll speak to our Ambassador in the morning; he might know a couple of them and have some friends who can ID the others." She turned to the girls, squaring her jaw. "We're going to do everything we can to rescue them," she promised.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

 _Hasenbergl, Munich, Germany_

 _Tuesday, 18_ _th_ _November 2003_

Lupin frowned as he once again, found himself in a rather run-down area of the city he was visiting. He glanced at the street sign, confirmed he was on the correct street and strode towards his destination.

"Remus!" The call caused him to jump; he looked around and saw Gerhard, who he'd met in France, crossing the street towards him. Lupin offered his hand but the man embraced him like a brother instead. "How have you been?"

"Fine," Remus supplied. "Things are going well."

"Would I be correct to assume that this is not a social visit?" the German asked as he led the Briton down the street; Lupin smiled.

"I spoke to our contact with the Veelas last night." His friend raised his eyebrows at the revelation that they were on friendly terms with the reclusive women. "He recently visited one of their villages in Bulgaria and got some news on the Empire."

"Go on."

"It sounds like _generally_ the Bulgarian magical mindset is fairly well aligned with Karkaroff's so Bulgaria is unlikely to join in any uprising."

"That supports what I've heard through our… network; Bulgarian werewolves are…" he hesitated, trying to decide how best to word things, "given certain promises by their government. The promises have been enough to keep them in line and they are widely considered to be one of their most potent weapons and are often used in maintaining order where needed. However, few believe the promises will all be honoured."

"Yet they continue to serve the Empire?" Remus was surprised; Gerhard stopped walking for a moment and looked at him with a hint of incredulity.

"How easy did _you_ find it to obtain paid work, my friend? While they doubt the promises, and not all support the government's motives, they have to feed themselves and, in some cases, their families," he defended their brethren.

Remus nodded; he could sympathise with the predicament many of his kind found themselves in, as it was a lot easier to have principles with a full stomach. The idea of what they were doing as a "potent weapon", however, did not sit well with him; he opted not to linger on the thought.

"What about those from other countries?"

"As you move west they tend to be more willing and eager to integrate, though they are still shunned by many. There are pockets of sympathy – and there has certainly been a positive reaction from many non-afflicted magicals to your Minister's offer of Wolfsbane. I understand that some of our kind who live in Poland were approached but, as they are on comparatively good terms with the local populous, they rejected the overtures and instead they are actually involved in the planned uprising."

This was the magic word; the uprising was what Remus was most interested in at this time. "Do you have any details about it? Timings? Anything like that?"

Gerhard shook his head. "They are keeping things very close to their chests, not wanting to risk the authorities learning of the plans."

"I can understand that," Remus observed, "but if there were similar plans in other parts of the Empire – Hungary for instance – then if they were all co-ordinated there would surely be more chance of success."

"That is true," the German nodded, "but the risks are very high for them. Even I do not know the date or even the city where they plan to strike."

"Well," Remus scratched his chin thoughtfully, "if you _do_ learn anything about plans elsewhere then making sure everyone planned to act together would be the thing to do."

"I agree. I will put some feelers out to my contacts in other lands and see what comes back." As they reached a major road he turned and smiled at his guest. "Enough of this talk; come, my friend, let me show you around my home city."

Lupin gratefully accepted the invitation and followed his friend down the street; he would leave several hours later with his friend pledging to speak to his contacts soon.

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

"Hello," James stood and smiled as four young blonde girls filed into his office accompanied by Amelia Bones and Nymphadora Tonks. "These are the girls from Bulgaria?" he asked the head of the Aurors.

Bones nodded. "The operation to free them was a complete success; to the best of our knowledge there is no link between ourselves and the escape."

"Well if there is then I'm sure Albus will let us know about it very soon," the Minister observed. He looked to the eldest girl and introduced himself; she thanked him for their rescue and introduced herself and the others.

James walked over to his fireplace and threw some floo powder in. "Ambassador Potter's quarters," he called.

"Hi dad, you ready to send them through?" He heard Harry's voice emitting from the emerald flames.

"Yes, I have the four of them here."

"Give me one minute," Harry bustled over to the door of his rooms; he managed to flag down a passing Veela and asked her to let the Bulgarian women, and the Queen, know that the rescued girls would be coming through. "Ok, dad," he called once back by the fire, "I'm ready for them to come through."

James gestured to the fireplace. As the eldest, Marija took the lead; she walked gingerly towards it and, following the Minister's encouraging nod, stepped tentatively into it (being unaccustomed to floo travel). Seeing this, the other three girls joined her in the fireplace; James waved to them before they vanished, reappearing moments later in Harry's suite.

"Radka!" One of the red-clad women shrieked, engulfing the young girl.

"Aunt Bisera!" The youngest Veela child was in tears. Once she had been released she looked around the room. "Where is mama?"

Her aunt bowed her head. "She was one of the women taken by the wizards. Our best guess is that she is now in Prague with the others." Tears welled in the eyes of them both. "They wanted to take us all for a purpose so we know that she is still alive," she declared through her sobs, "this gives us hope that we will see her again one day." She looked at the other girls. "What happened to your sister?"

"She was taken by one of the Ministry wizards," Penka's tears intensified. "The wizards who rescued us say they will try to rescue her and the others." Her aunt turned to Harry.

"Do you think your people can rescue the other girls?" she asked sharply, switching to French from her native language. Harry pondered for a moment before repeating the line Amelia had given him.

"We hope to be able to. It will not be easy, as we first need to find out who has your girls and where they are holding them, so it will be a long and dangerous process. I can't promise success but I can promise we will try."

She gave a small nod; on one level she appreciated his honesty but she'd have rather been told that they would definitely be getting the girls back quickly.

"Well we thank you for your country's efforts," Fleur spoke up from the doorway, causing many of the welcoming committee to jump; they had not expected the Queen herself to join them and the Veelas sank immediately into deferential bows. Fleur lazily urged them to rise.

"Your Majesty," Harry gave a curt bow of his own. The women in his suite edged to the side to allow her entry to the rooms; she chose to remain on the other side of the threshold.

"Your suite is, _technically_ , your country's sovereign territory," she explained in answer to his inquisitive look. "I will not enter without your permission." Before he could reply, granting that permission, she spoke to the room in general. "Come, everyone, this should be a day of celebration, let us make it one in recognition of our daughters' recovery, while we wait on our friends helping to devise a way to recover the rest of our daughters and sisters." To Harry specifically she added, "Please, Ambassador, join us in the Hall when we celebrate."

Harry nodded as she turned and walked away; the other women filed out of the room to follow her, many of them thanking him as they passed. Danielle, in particular, thanked him with a hug; she had seemingly been taking every opportunity she could to get close to him since their scouting trip to Bulgaria.

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _Sofia, Bulgaria_

The atmosphere in Oblansk's office was far from celebratory; the Minister and his senior officials had been furious when news of the escape of the girls reached them – both with the abduction and the breach of their Ministry that had enabled it. Most upset was the General who had led the attack; he had, of course, been promised one of the girls for himself and upon learning of the escape had immediately arrested the guards who had been on duty. He and some of his men now dragged them to the meeting in the Minister's office.

" _How_ did they escape? _Where_ are they?" the Minister demanded; the two guards who had been on duty trembled inside the chains that currently entombed them.

"We never saw the kidnappers," one spoke up in a shaky voice. "We were standing guard outside the cells, as per our orders and as we always do, when suddenly red beams appeared from thin air – stunners. The next thing we knew, when the spells wore off, they were gone. _Just_ the girls, they didn't free all the prisoners."

"They knew what they were looking for then," the General observed, scratching his beard thoughtfully. "If these two," he jerked his head at the new prisoners, "are to be believed then the intruders must have made themselves invisible by some means or other and took the young Veelas before making their escape."

"Who could have done this?" Oblansk demanded. "Who knew that we had the creatures _and where we had them_?"

"I will speak to our border guards and see if any suspicious people entered the country recently." Oblansk waved him off and he left; his security forces took the chained wizards with them for further questioning.

"At least we got some of the girls to their new homes," Oblansk's deputy observed once he was alone with his minister; he thought of the room where his own 'guest' was housed. "There is no chance that anybody will be able to break into our homes and get to them there."

Oblansk nodded. "And at least Karkaroff doesn't know we withheld some of the creatures from Svoboda and the Czechs. We don't need to give him any more ammunition to use against us." By which, of course, the Bulgarian meant against _him_ personally.

"Do you know who could have done this?"

"There are not too many suspects," the Minister talked through his thoughts. "Who knew that we had taken them? That is the key question. The only people who answer it are the Veelas themselves or one of their allies; that would probably be the British. They must be our chief suspects."

"With our approaching Dumbledore in the ICW _already_ we must be careful," his aide cautioned. "To accuse them publically before we get evidence would only worsen relations – and we would not necessarily have the Emperor's support if it were not proven."

"We won't go public at all on this matter, and even if we did we would certainly not be able to mention Veelas," Oblansk replied. "Remember," he reminded him, " _nobody can know that we kept some of the creatures here_. _When_ we get the proof we need that the British are behind this then we will simply tell Dumbledore that we know they are responsible for freeing some of our prisoners. We will use this second attack on our sovereignty to increase the pressure on them to hand over Potter to us. In the meantime," he shrugged, "it gives our military friends a new job to do – increasing our country's security, especially for if they _do_ come back for the rest of them."

The aide shuddered; suddenly he felt less secure inside his own home.

 _Main Hall,_

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

"Look at her," Gabrielle muttered bitterly as a smiling Danielle handed Harry a glass of champagne; she rested her hand on his arm as she said something to him: from the distance, and given the hubbub in the room, she couldn't hear what was being said but _did_ see Harry smiling and nodding at her words. She turned to her sister. "Doesn't it bother you at all?" she asked quietly.

"Should it?" the Queen asked indifferently.

"The Ambassador…" Gabrielle began; Fleur spoke over her.

"The Ambassador is perfectly entitled to behave, within reason, however he wishes and interact with _whomever_ he wishes. My courtiers have the same freedom," she added with a hint of a warning in her tone.

"But…"

"Enough," Fleur's voice was quiet but firm. "You know our laws, sister; even if I wished it, and even if I hadn't insulted him over the Bulgarian attack, there could never be anything between me and him." She glanced at the younger girl. "It would even be difficult for something to happen between _you_ and him," she warned, interpreting her sibling's expression.

"Not impossible," Gabbi grumbled quietly, "unless, of course, _she_ keeps that up," she looked over again; Danielle was laughing at something Harry had said and had rested a hand on his arm. Fleur just shook her head.

"We will talk more later," she told her sister; Gabbi recognised the dismissal and, with an almost insolent bow, walked away to mingle with the crowd, making sure to spend plenty of time talking with the new arrivals to see how they were settling in to their home.

* * *

"Your Majesty," Harry took advantage of a rare moment alone and approached the Queen. She smiled at him.

"Ambassador, my thanks once again to your country for their efforts in rescuing our girls."

"You're welcome; we were happy to support our allies and partially right a terrible wrong," he replied; Fleur winced internally at the coolness of his words and tone – another sign of how frayed their personal relationship had become since the visit to Bulgaria. "My Minister also wished me to remind you of his having invited you to visit Britain; he feels that doing so would be particularly beneficial after recent events."

The Queen froze for a second; with everything that had happened recently, planning of an official visit had taken a back seat for her. "I will speak to the court," she promised, "and begin planning it. Perhaps we can meet when you have your country's expectations and we can formalise the itinerary?"

"I'll get back to you after I next speak to him," Harry gave her a bow before catching the eye of one of the serving girls; she came over to them, carrying her tray of drinks, and he took a glass from it. Fleur, though, waved her away.

"We will talk again soon then, Ambassador," she stated before leaving him; Harry caught Danielle watching him and headed over to speak to her again; Gabrielle watched for a moment before looking away sulkily.

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _Sofia, Bulgaria_

"Minister," the General saluted as he was shown into the office.

"You have news?" Oblansk asked, looking up from behind his desk.

"I checked with the border troops. The only _legal_ entry that caused any interest to our people was a group of Irish tourists. Our forces tried to tail them but they were able to slip away from them."

"So they _knew_ they were being followed?" the Minister was intrigued.

"Yes. According to the tail, they were subtle, _he_ was subtle, but he was spotted. He's one of our best so there's no doubt in my mind – _they were not just regular wizards… and a witch,_ " he added.

"Get pictures of them and circulate them around the Ministry," he ordered. "We will see if anybody recognises them." The General nodded and, with another salute, he left the office.

"Contact Minkov," Oblansk turned to his aide, "he needs to speak to his Irish counterpart. I need to speak to their Ambassador. See to it that a meeting is set up for today." The aide nodded and left the office.

"Do you really think the Irish were behind this?" the Bulgarian Deputy Minister asked when Oblansk informed him of this development; the Minister shook his head.

"I am convinced that it was Britain," he replied, " _but_ we can use this to our advantage. By agitating the Irish we can force them to investigate things. When they discover British operatives have been acting illegally while pretending to be Irish…" he smiled, "there will be difficult discussions between London and Dublin."

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

"Ambassador," James extended his hand as the Lily showed the Frenchman into the room; he accepted it and, a firm shake later, the Ambassador settled into the chair he'd been offered.

"Minister, I will admit I was surprised to receive your request for a meeting."

"I wanted to advise you, and your government, of recent events." He went on to discuss the signing of the treaty with the Veelas (something that surprised his guest), along with the fall-out from the visit to the Bulgarian exclave (though, for now, he neglected to mention the abduction and recovery of the Veela girls).

"The Bulgarians expect you to surrender your son to them?" Dubois asked incredulously.

"That was their demand," James replied. "Of course they must know that I would not do that."

"You are expecting a difficult time in the ICW then?"

"I think Bulgaria can be expected to make some noise. Our position is that the troops were invading an exclave, rather than being in their own country. That will probably be the main sticking point."

"I will have to speak to my Minister," the Ambassador cautioned, "but I would expect our man to support your argument."

"There are a couple more things, Ambassador," James continued, silently wondering if he would be getting more support in the ICW from France than he did from Dumbledore. He passed on the intelligence about the Empire that had been collected from the Veela women; again, Dubois promised to pass it on to his government. "The last thing," the Minister gave a small smile, "is that we have extended an official invitation to the Veela Queen to make a Royal Visit to Britain. No date has been set yet but we hope that it will happen soon."

"Indeed?"

"Yes. When it happens I would like to invite you, and our other allies, to meet her as well. I believe the Veelas will make a valuable addition to our alliance and that this will encourage them to come more into the magical world again."

The Ambassador nodded as he pondered the invitation. "I will raise it with my Minister," he promised, "but we both know her opinion of the Veelas." They shared an understanding nod before the Frenchman stood; James did likewise. "Minister," they shook hands again and he left.

 _Studzienna,_

 _Krak_ _ó_ _w, Poland_

It was an unassuming house in an unassuming neighbourhood. Few people paid any heed to the family who lived there; they were civil enough to their neighbours but mostly kept to themselves.

There were stories in the area that once every month a faint, strange howling noise could be heard coming from their basement but the family, both parents and children, always seemed fine afterwards so nobody worried about it, getting on with their own lives and leaving them to get on with theirs.

It was an unusual situation; even in the magical world it was rare for two werewolves to marry and have children. The condition was, fortunately, not hereditary but they had relied on support from sympathetic family in keeping the children safe on a full moon until the eldest was able to understand his parents' affliction and ensure the family's safety. That there were two werewolves together also helped; their mutual company keeping the worst of the wolf's attributes at bay during their transformations.

In fact, their synergy was so good that they had been able to make a success of a muggle life; both held down good jobs in the area and, so long as they kept non-magicals at arm's length, nobody needed to suspect that they were a pair of werewolves with three magical children, especially as they were doing _so_ well that they could afford a private monthly delivery of Wolfsbane from the country's premier potion supplier. All of that looked set to change, however, with the rise of the Empire.

The potion master had quickly been conscripted into service by the puppet government, as had any others within the Empire's borders. Consequently their supply of Wolfsbane was about to dry up and, for the first time in a couple of years, they faced the unknowns of a dangerous transformation. Worse still, as registered werewolves (something that was commonplace across the continent, not just under the Empire) they had been targeted by troops seeking to press then into service of the Empire – and unwilling to take no for an answer.

These unwelcome changes had led to their home becoming an unofficial headquarters of the burgeoning resistance against the Empire (though, as werewolves, they were, unfortunately, distrusted by many of their would-be allies) and over the past few weeks a number of quiet meetings had taken place there on an evening.

"Are we ready?" the man of the house asked; looking around the room he saw his guests nod their assent.

"Tomorrow morning, 10 o'clock we strike," one of them declared, his voice thick with anticipation. "The Ministry building in Warsaw, the local offices in Poznan, Szczecin, Krakow," he nodded to his hosts, "Lublin and the rest. We will put them all under our control until a proper civilian government can be restored."

"What about the other magical districts? The shopping areas, the villages?" Another voice spoke up. "Should we look to secure those too?"

"We give the wizarding population the opportunity to join us in throwing off our oppressors," he replied. "But a direct attack on civilians or on people's livelihoods would undermine our cause and make us as bad as the people we stand against."

There were general nods of agreement for this. The wizards pulled out pocket watches and ensured that they were synchronised. "Ten o'clock," the ringleader said again.

"Ten o'clock," they chorused, apparating away with a sense of anticipation.

"Are you sure this is safe?" The householder's wife spoke up when their guests had left.

"No," he replied simply. "It is a war and it is one that we may not survive," he continued honestly, "but upstairs are the reasons I must do this, so the life we have built for them is now ripped away from us all."

She nodded bravely. "I have told them after school that they should go to my sister's and that we will collect them from there later on. Only Antosz knows that that may not happen."

"He has the letters for our employers?"

She nodded. "Whether they believe what is written in them or not I hope we never have to find out."

"If they are delivered then the Empire will quickly send their hit squad to _Obliviate_ them."

"At least it will keep them busy in the aftermath of what we've attempted. Hopefully, even if we fail, it will encourage others to fight for their freedom."

Tired of the defeatist talk she smiled at her husband. "Come," she took his hand, "if this may be our last night together, our last on this earth, then there are better ways to spend it than worrying about the future."

 _Ambassador's Suite,_

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

 _Wednesday, 19_ _th_ _November 2003_

Someone with far fewer concerns for the future was Acting Ambassador Potter; he woke to the increasingly familiar feeling of a naked blonde snuggled against his side. He used his left hand to gently brush her hair from his bare chest, revealing her smiling face as he tucked in behind her ear though, with her eyes closed, he was unsure for the moment whether she was awake or asleep – at least until her smile widened and her eyes fluttered open.

"Good morning Danielle," he greeted her.

"Good morning 'Arry – I mean Amb…" He cut her off with a gentle finger to her lips.

"In this room, and especially in my bed," he smirked, "Harry is fine." His smile widened. " _'Arry_ is even better," he joked, replacing his finger on her lips with his own.

Danielle propped herself up on her elbow and they shared another gentle kiss. "Then 'Arry it is," she giggled.

"What happened to last time being a one-off?" he asked teasingly, slipping his left arm around her and pulling her on top of him before stealing yet another kiss.

"I changed my mind," she replied simply, swinging her right leg over to straddle him. "Besides," she grinned as she felt him harden beneath her and used her knees to elevate herself enough to accommodate him before sliding back on top of her lover, "it doesn't seem like you're complaining."

"Not at all," he replied, kissing her again. "Not at all."

* * *

"You still owe me nothing, 'Arry," she told him as they dressed to go for breakfast. "Who knows what the future will bring? For now I just enjoy the moment," she kissed him again before adding in a low, conspiratorial voice, "and enjoy _you_ ," before taking his hand and leading him out of the suite; Harry was busy with his thoughts as they walked to the Main Hall.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

 _Ambassador's Suite,_

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

 _Friday, 21_ _st_ _November 2003_

"Here's the draft itinerary," James handed his son a couple of sheets of parchment. "Ministry business," he shrugged when Harry looked disdainfully at it. "Anyway, please give it to the Queen as soon as you can. If she approves it then I can announce it to the Wizengamot early next week, perhaps even as soon as Monday."

"It will be good to come home and see everyone again," Harry observed eagerly; his parents shared an uncomfortable look, which he caught. "What? What is it?"

"You're not coming along," Minister Potter stated bluntly.

"What? Why not?" The young diplomat was shocked.

"Harry…" Lily began placatingly; her son cut her off.

"Don't 'Harry' me, mum. This would be a perfect opportunity for me to visit. Why can't I?"

"Because the Bulgarians want us to arrest you," his father snapped; it was an effective conversation stopper.

"They approached Dumbledore in the ICW after what happened in the Veela village," Lily added.

"Obviously I have no intention of handing my son over to them, nor do I think you did anything wrong – after all, to us the village was Veela territory, not Bulgarian…"

"They disagree though," the penny dropped for the young diplomat, "they want revenge for the troops who were killed…" he voice dropped to a whisper, "the ones _I_ killed."

His parents shared a look; they had suspected this but not outright asked about it, not really wanting to know the answer. "You did what you had to, Harry," his mother was swift to wrap him in her arms.

"The Bulgarians also insist that it was _civilians_ who were killed in the incident, not soldiers. And Dumbledore – well, you know how things are between us," James added, "he wasted no time in interpreting 'Best for Britain' as handing one person over to avert the threat of conflict. So you see," he continued, "the safest place for you right now is here where nobody can touch you. We still don't know how deep the conspiracy and sympathy for the Empire runs in our own community. I can't – I _won't_ – risk you being kidnapped by somebody and dragged off there."

"Very well," Harry conceded defeat after a few moments of silence; he then brightened. "Maybe I should invite Neville and Jennifer over one weekend; I'm sure they'd like a visit."

"You do that," his mother smiled. "Just make sure you clear it with your hostesses first if you plan on them leaving this suite," she added as a caution.

"And make sure Neville practices dealing with Veela allure if he and his girlfriend are both going to be here," his father grinned; Lily slapped his arm.

"Oh," something occurred to Harry as his parents got ready to head for the floo. "You might want to involve Granger in proceedings next week."

"She's in the meeting regarding some of our technologies which are being shared under the treaty," James returned. "I don't think too much else affects her department."

"Maybe not," Harry countered, "but remember, hardly any of the women here speak any English at all – and how many other department heads speak good enough French to converse with them."

A comical look passed the Minister's face.

"I'd have suggested Nev but Bones will have him on duty somewhere," the Ambassador grinned.

"Good point Harry," Lily chuckled while her husband continued to gape. "We'll be sure to take it on board."

"Yes," James collected his thoughts. "Hopefully in years to come the diplomatic exchange will have produced Wizengamot members and more department heads who can speak other languages – especially if we eventually expand it to some other countries as well. For now," he shrugged, "we'll work with what we've got. Thanks, son, I'll speak to Granger when you give us confirmation that it's going ahead."

 _Royal Office_

"This all looks acceptable," Fleur had read through the proposal; she cast a _Gemino_ spell and made a copy of the parchment, which she rolled up and slipped into the drawer of her desk. "I will speak to the courtiers who will be accompanying us and inform them of our plans." Relaxing her regal posture a little, she smiled at him and dropped the formality. "I expect you are looking forward to the visit to your homeland?" To her surprise he frowned.

"I won't be going with you," he informed her, before repeating the reasons his father had given him.

"I had no idea this had happened," the Queen gasped. Looking to mend fences she continued, "I am sorry that your actions in our defence mean that you cannot return home."

Harry gave a wry smile. "It's unfortunate," he shrugged. "I have confidence in my dad and his government getting things fixed quickly and putting an end to this plot."

Fleur suppressed a smile at Harry lapsing into informality; it suggested to her that he was starting to get a little more comfortable around her again.

"Well I hope that you will be comfortable in the castle while we are away."

"On that subject, Your Majesty," he spoke up, "I would like your permission to have a couple of friends visit me here one weekend. I don't have any specific dates in mind but…"

"Ambassador… 'Arry," her voice was as soft as she could make it as she dropped all remaining formality, "I hope that you will think of our castle as your home while you are here. You may bring any friends that you wish here."

He nodded his thanks before asking the key question. "Will I be able to show them around the castle?"

Fleur bit her lip for a moment; of course Harry wouldn't want his friends to be confined to his suite on their visit. She, and the others, were becoming used to having one man in the castle but were they ready to be around others?

"You may," she began slowly, "but remember, _Ambassador_ ," she reminded him of his title, and with it his responsibilities, "that their behaviour will reflect on you and your country as well as on themselves."

"Of course," he agreed, "though I am sure Neville's girlfriend will be able to do a better job than me of keeping him in line," he added with a grin.

"Please let me know when they will be visiting; it would be nice to meet some of your friends."

"Of course," he nodded. "Thank you Your Majesty; I will let my dad know that everything is agreed, provisionally, for your arrival in London a week on Monday."

"I look forward to our visit, and to addressing our new allies."

"You should be aware, Your Majesty," he cautioned, "that, like my father, few of your audience there are able to speak fluent French."

Fleur's mouth formed a comical 'o' as the realisation sunk in for her. "And I speak no English," she stated. "This complicates things."

"I could translate your speech," he suggested, "and teach you to recite it in English if you wish to address the chamber in our language. We _do_ have some people who speak French who could translate any questions you were asked or translate the speech as you give it – though that would involve you stopping every couple of lines and breaking up the flow."

"That is true," she gazed off into space for a few moments, then she smiled. "Well Ambassador, it seems we will be seeing a lot of each other over the next few days as you help me to deliver my speech in English." She hid her disappointment when Harry didn't respond to her choice of phrase.

"It would be my honour, Your Majesty," was his only reply; he stood to leave.

"I will send word when I have my speech ready," she stood as well and, after exchanging small bows, he left the office to pass the news on to James.

 _Courtroom 10,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

 _Monday, 24_ _th_ _November 2003_

"If there is nothing further, there now follows a special statement from the Minister," Chief Warlock Crouch addressed the chamber after scheduled business had been concluded; the Wizengamot had noticed Minister Potter entering the room and so were prepared to hear him say _something_ ; what he had to say, however, was not what they were expecting.

"Honoured members," James began, "as you will no doubt recall we recently agreed a treaty with the Veelas." He allowed the murmurs to die down before continuing, "I extended an invitation to their Queen to make an official visit here; she has agreed to such a visit and it will take place next week." The voices rose up again as they discussed this news between them.

"Minister," Goldstein spoke up, "what _exactly_ has been agreed to with these Veelas?"

"I'm glad you asked," James smiled. "The Royal Party will arrive here one week from today and have a private meeting with myself, my deputy and the Chief Warlock. She will tour the Ministry on the Tuesday before addressing this body. On Wednesday she will visit some of the magical locations in Britain, including Hogwarts and Diagon Alley, before returning home. Precise timings will be released later – given the circumstances of the on-going investigation," his last pronouncement started up a fresh wave of mutterings, which he allowed to subside before continuing. "This is because," he spoke loudly, ensuring silence from the rest of the body, "we have a friendly Head of State making that nation's first official visit to Britain in centuries; we will not be taking any chances with security, _especially_ as she and her people have only recently been attacked by the Empire."

This was news to most of the people in the room; James was bombarded with questions about the incident, and about what had happened to their Ambassador.

"Acting Ambassador Potter was not injured," he answered carefully, "thanks in no small part to the experimental materials he was given by our Department of Magical Research, which were able to deflect curses from the aggressors." This generated a lot of interest, as the shield-charmed clothing was not something the majority of the body were aware of. "These products are now being rolled out across the Auror force." _Bringing a tidy sum to the investors_ , he added to himself smugly.

When no more questions were immediately forthcoming, while the chamber absorbed the information they'd been given, James took the opportunity to escape the room; Barty followed close behind him.

"I see you didn't mention the _other_ meeting Her Majesty is hoping to attend," he observed quietly as they walked back towards the lifts to return to their offices.

"The others have yet to agree to it," the Minister shrugged. "Also," he added knowingly, "an impromptu meeting gives us the opportunity to have some real discussions without people _expecting_ anything to come from them. Far better than us _having_ to decide something and come up with something to say for the sake of justifying the meeting."

Crouch nodded. "I wonder where you learnt that," he mused; the two men shared a smirk.

James was surprised to see Lupin waiting on him when he returned to his office; Barty elected not to stay, leaving the two former Marauders to their discussion.

"I'm a little worried, Prongs," Remus began. "I was expecting to hear something from Poland over the weekend but Gerhard never saw the contact. He went to Krakow to see if he could find out what had happened to him and nobody has seen or heard from him since. Maybe I should go look for him?"

James rubbed his head as he thought on this. "I wouldn't go to _Poland_ ," he counselled. "Maybe you could try and find him in Munich but if there's something going on over there then it's not a good idea to get involved in it."

Lupin nodded and left to get himself ready for another trip.

 _International Confederation of Wizards,_

 _Geneva, Switzerland_

One person who was about to know full well what had happened in Poland was Albus Dumbledore. Business was suspended this morning due to a request from the new Polish representative (appointed after the previous government had fallen to the Empire and his predecessor had been 'recalled') to make an emergency statement regarding an insurrection that had taken place late the previous week.

"Honoured wizards," he began, "on Thursday, 20th November 2003 at approximately 10 a.m. a series of co-ordinated attacks took place across my country. The ring-leaders were a group of werewolves, with a lot of other witches and wizards in their militia, who attempted to take over our local and national governments."

This was news to most of the people in the chamber, though the representatives of the other nations of the Empire were well aware of what had transpired, as some of their own people had been called in as reinforcements to help deal with the uprising.

"The group initially succeeded in occupying many of their target sites," the Pole continued, "but was thwarted in its attempts to assassinate our Minister," he continued to pedal the official story. "Once the capital was secured we were able to deploy our forces," he neglected to mention the _other_ nations' forces that had scrambled to help, "to liberate the local government offices and apprehend those responsible." He also omitted to mention the brutality with which it was put down. All of the identified werewolves had been executed that day, along with many of the witches and wizards. _Some_ had been imprisoned, if only to allow him to make the statement that he did and be able to insist that it was truthful.

The other member 'nations' of the Empire had been quick to offer their support and sympathies; on his country's behalf he was happy to accept their offer of troops (not least because they were already in his country).

"My dear fellow," Dumbledore spoke when the offers of support, and other mutterings, had died down, "please _also_ accept our sympathies from Britain." This was greeted with disbelieving looks from the Eastern European contingent, though he received a guarded nod from the Pole.

"I thank you for your words," he replied with forced, formal politeness. "You can be assured that our government _has_ survived this and that we will not allow enemies, from inside our borders _or outside_ ," he stressed with a meaningful look at Dumbledore, "to overthrow us." Those members who were well aware of the spread of the Empire noted the implied threat and prepared to pass the message on to their governments; Dumbledore realised that he would have to do likewise and, as the session broke up, he prepared to contact James. As he did, he found himself being forced to reappraise his thoughts on the existence and spread of the Empire – along with the threat it could pose if it existed and a Dark-minded wizard was to lead it.

 _Portkey Terminal,_

 _Heathrow Airport,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

"Moony!" Lupin heard the call coming from his bag and opened it; thankfully he was in the magical annex ready to collect his Portkey to Munich. He reached into it and pulled out a mirror.

"Prongs?" He asked; the Minister's face replaced his own.

"I've just had word from Dumbledore," James began, "the uprising in Poland happened – and was put down, probably a lot harder than Dumbledore is saying it was, and there was a lot of blame for werewolves and a backlash against them." Lupin gasped. "So if your contact was _in_ Poland since then…"

"There's a chance that he was caught up in the aftermath," Remus concluded. "Well I'll go to Munich anyway and see what I can find out, but I'll be careful."

"Make sure you do," James urged his old friend; he then brightened marginally. "On the plus side, it seems all this is forcing the old git to acknowledge the existence of the Empire. He's not eating humble pie yet but he should be keeping a closer eye on things in the ICW for us."

"That's something at least," Lupin conceded. "I just hope the cost to my friends – and our hopes for better integration of werewolves – isn't too high." He shut off the mirror as his name was called by the attendant.

"You and me both, old friend," James spoke into the blank mirror.

 _Prime Minister's Office,_

 _Parliament building,_

 _Warsaw, Poland_

 _Thursday, 27_ _th_ _November 2003_

The President was worried; he'd summoned the Prime Minister following the explosions earlier this morning. It seemed that their police and Armed Forces had been the target of this attack, though as yet it seemed that nobody had any idea who was behind it, what had motivated it or how they had so easily bypassed security checkpoints, particularly at the Army barracks that had been destroyed.

"How?" The President demanded, not really expecting an answer. "How could our people have been attacked like this? Our intelligence services had no warning – nor did any of our allies…"

"Or if they did they didn't tell us," the Prime Minister interjected; the President looked sharply at him.

"Do you believe that to be possible?" he demanded; the other shook his head. "So it seems that nobody knew this was going to happen, nobody has claimed responsibility, nobody has made any demands."

"If the perpetrators did not come from _outside_ Poland…" the Prime Minister began, concern in his voice.

"Then it was an internal group," the President concluded. "But again our intelligence services have said nothing about any dissidents, certainly nobody who would have reason to attack our people in this way."

"Nor would they have the _means_ to carry it out," he was reminded. "Remember, this group, whoever they were, were able to get in and out of a top security barracks without leaving _any_ evidence of having done so!"

"So you think..?" the President's eyes widened. " _Wizards?_ " he mouthed.

"They have not been in contact with us recently, not since they informed us of the death of Minister Kielesz."

"Something about his successor leaves me feeling uneasy," the President admitted. "And the lack of details about Kielesz's death? The evasion when asked on that subject? I do wonder if there has been some sort of regime change in their world."

"A civil war in our country, completely unseen? Until now anyway," the Prime Minister speculated.

"Come to my office after lunch," the President invited him. "We will try to summon their leader and get some answers."

 _President's Office_

The Polish President spoke to the portrait on his wall; the figure remained stock still (unlike in the past when he had, during the nadir of his presidency, spoken to it in the hope of having a conversation with someone who _wouldn't_ berate him; the portrait had been fairly amiable at that time).

"Well?" The Prime Minister demanded. "Will you pass on our request to your Minister or not?"

Finally the figure reacted, turning its head a fraction so that its eyes met the Prime Minister's.

"The Minister for Magic is a busy wizard," the picture replied haughtily. "You are correct that the incidents that have spilt over into your world originated in ours. I will inform him that you wish to speak to him, but I would not expect to hear from him soon." He turned on his heel and marched out of the picture, leaving the two politicians alone.

"What can we do?" The President asked. "We can't say that wizards are responsible; we'd be laughed out of office. Nor can we plan for a threat that we know so little about – and have no easy way of countering."

"Increase security around our major potential military targets," the Prime Minister advised, "and continue trying to arrange an audience with the magician."

"Do any of our regional Heads of Government know about them?"

" _I_ didn't before I became Prime Minister, so I would think not."

"That is unfortunate. The ability to intervene directly would be… beneficial at this time."

 _Holding Cells,_

 _Polish Ministry of Magic_

While the cell was large enough, there were so many bodies inside it that they could barely move: not that too many were capable of movement after the vicious curses they'd been subjected to since their arrest a week ago. More than one had dies in custody, the bodies lying on the floor with the prisoners trying to move around them and give their comrades some dignity in death.

An explosion garnered their attention and they looked towards its source: the door to the prison was opened and the Minister for Magic himself strode imperiously in.

"Hello, traitors," he sneered at them.

"You're the traitor," the insurgent's leader spoke up. "Handing our country to the Russian and his ' _Empire_ '. We patriots sought its liberation…" He was cut off by a bludgeoning hex to the midriff from one of the guards that sent him staggering back half an inch into his nearest neighbour. He stood again bravely and stared defiantly at the puppet leader of his country, who raised his hand in front of the guard.

"Enough," he commanded; the guard lowered his wand. "It would not do to kill him here, not when we seek to make an example of the traitors. I just came to say, tonight you will die. Publically."

"We may die but our cause is just; our fight will live on," the leader's wife declared.

"I doubt it. Not unless you wish more suffering on our people," the Minister returned, "especially your muggle friends."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with dread.

"This time we stuck to military targets. _This time_." He glared at them. "Your treasonous sympathisers will be told – any further attacks and we will be forced to respond by targeting their civilians, their schools." The prisoners gasped collectively. "Do you scum really want that on your hands?"

" _Our hands_?" the leader asked incredulously; the Minister shrugged.

"Of course. Without your actions there is no need for our _re_ actions. We will be sure the people know that, then they will see you die." He turned on his heel and walked out, followed by his guards and leaving the prisoners to prepare themselves for their end.

 _Ambassador's Suite,_

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

 _Monday, 1_ _st_ _December 2003_

Dawn's first light had yet to touch the bedroom's window when the blonde awoke. As gently as she could she slipped from her lover's embrace and hopped out of his bed, watching as he shifted in his sleep at the loss of her body next to his own. Danielle watched Harry sleep for a few moments before gathering up her clothes and pulling them on. She watched the slumbering Ambassador again, a fond smile on her face, before swooping down and kissing him gently on the cheek, delighting at the smile that crept up his face.

She stood again, ready to leave, when his eyes fluttered open.

"What?" he mumbled sleepily. "What time is it?"

"Shh, 'Arry," she whispered. "It is still early but we have to leave for… for the visit," she avoided mentioning his homeland due to the circumstances, "soon. I must prepare and then meet the others for breakfast. Go back to sleep; I will see you when we return." She bent down again and kissed his lips.

"Why do you have to go?" he grumbled, propping himself up with his elbow.

"The Queen has demanded my presence; I _hope_ it means I am becoming more important in the court."

Harry reddened a little. "I didn't mean…" he began. "I mean, that's great and it's really good for you," he tried again, "it's just – I'll miss you."

She smiled at him again. "I will miss you too. I will see you soon." They kissed again and she slipped out of his suite; with a groan Harry lay down again, suspecting that further sleep would elude him now that he was alone in his bed.

 _Main Hall_

Breakfast was a quiet affair; the women all looked resplendent in their dress robes (including the Queen, wearing a golden robe under her usual red, ermine-trimmed one) but there was a distinct nervous tension in the air. For many of them it would be their first trip outside of the castle while even those who _had_ left it had generally only visited their exclaves or the villages that sat on the shore of Lake Geneva.

"Good morning Danielle," the Queen greeted the newcomer with a knowing grin. "You slept well I trust?"

"Very well, Your Majesty," she replied confidently. "Are you ready to give your speech?"

She nodded. "The Ambassador has left me thoroughly prepared – I hope," she smiled, though it betrayed a hint of nervousness.

"I'm sure he has," Danielle returned loyally.

"Eat," Fleur nodded at the table behind her subject, "we leave shortly."

As Danielle took a seat, Fleur caught her younger sister's eye; Gabrielle's grin was met by a frown that did nothing to dampen it.

 _Royal Office_

"Be safe, my sister," Gabrielle urged.

"I will," Fleur promised.

"Are you _sure_ you do not want me to go with you?"

"You know why you cannot."

The younger Veela nodded grudgingly.

"Oh well," she brightened, "at least I can talk to the Ambassador while his playmate is away."

"Be careful," the Queen warned, "remember what I have said."

Gabrielle was saved from having to answer by a knock on the door. The guards opened them to reveal the rest of the travelling party, who entered the room. Gabbi nodded once more to her older sister before easing her way through the throng and leaving the office. Fleur threw a handful of powder into the fireplace and two of her guards strode through, followed by the rest of the group. Finally, with a nod to the guards she was leaving behind, who closed the door leaving her alone in the office, she stepped into the fire herself.

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

Fleur emerged from the fireplace, finding herself very briefly thinking that Harry _had_ made the trip. She corrected her assessment in a second as she appraised the man, and his wife, standing before her.

"Minister," she greeted him.

"Your Majesty," James replied, "welcome to Britain."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

 _Director's Office,_

 _Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

"Come in," Amelia Bones barked without looking up. Neville strode confidently into the office and stood in front of his boss's desk. "Longbottom," she greeted him curtly after glancing up, before her gaze returned to her work, "what can I do for you?"

"The Veela delegation have arrived," he reported. "They're making their way to Courtroom 10 for the special session."

"Very good," she nodded. "Is there something else?" she prompted when he remained stood before her.

"Were you aware that the Minister barred our Ambassador from this trip, due to the Bulgarians having issued an international arrest warrant for him and demanded that Britain hand him over?"

"The Minister informed _all_ key departments and personnel about the Bulgarians' warrant and their demands," Bones confirmed with a sigh, "but I didn't think Potter would feel the need to keep his own son away from Britain; I suspected that there was little chance of him being arrested here," she added with a grin; having been complicit in breaking into the Bulgarian Ministry and taking the captive girls from there, the DMLE was unlikely to co-operate with that country's demands: not on _her_ watch anyway.

"He fears Harry being abducted by some of Malfoy's friends and delivered to them," Neville stated. "So until we finish our investigation Uncle James is keeping away from here." He licked his lips to buy himself a moment before asking cautiously, "I've been out of the loop for a bit, ever since we mounted the rescue mission for the girls…"

"Yes, I took your group off the investigation and put you back to regular duties afterwards," she nodded. It had seemed the most logical thing to do, since she couldn't afford to tie up _all_ her resources in the investigation and the other groups were still working on it.

"Can I ask how it is going?"

Bones sighed again; she reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a huge sheaf of parchment which she plonked on her desk.

"Here is what we have," she tapped the pile; Neville's eyes widened at the quantity of documents accrued. "We've just about finished the information gathering phase. I've reviewed most of it and by the time the Veela visit is out of the way I should be in a position to present our findings to the Minister. I believe he'll have enough to call Black, Macnair and maybe a couple of others for questioning by the Wizengamot."

"It goes that high?" Neville asked in wonder. "Senior members of the Wizengamot, some of the leaders of one of the main factions? No wonder Harry has to stay away; if Black _is_ involved, and if he took over as Minister, Harry could be recalled and shipped off to Bulgaria the next day!"

"Quite," Bones nodded. "The links between them and Malfoy are well known so it was easy to start building things around that. Producing a _direct_ link to Eastern Europe is going to be trickier but I suspect we've enough for Potter to have them questioned at least. Unfortunately their positions mean that _we_ can't do the questioning, it has to be the Wizengamot instead."

"Maybe _fortunately_ ," Neville pointed out. "The DMLE needs to remain impartial in all this, otherwise we'd be the first casualties of the Black regime – well, after Harry anyway."

"Indeed," his boss gruffly assented.

"Has Pettigrew said much?" Neville asked. "Dad said he had a foot in both camps."

"We've not interviewed him directly; we probably have enough to do so, unless someone tries to block it."

"I can't see the Minister doing that, even if they are old friends; he's as keen as anyone to find out whose side he's actually on."

Bones nodded at his reasoning. "Anything else?" she prompted.

"Harry mentioned receiving permission to invite Jen and me for a visit," Neville disclosed. "With her career it would probably have to be during the week…"

"Put in the holiday request and I'll make a note that you're down as incommunicado unless all hell breaks loose," Bones interrupted.

"Thanks boss," he smiled and turned to leave.

"Longbottom?" she called; he stopped and spun back around to be greeted by the huge pile of parchment being thrust at him. "Go through this, draw your own conclusions: see if we've missed anything."

He nodded and headed back to his desk complete with the information on the alleged conspiracy.

 _Courtroom 10_

The objects of the DMLE's attention were actually currently in the chamber, having agreed with the Ministry that their voluntary absence during the conducting of the investigation should be waived today, given the special nature of the session. Black and Macnair sat side-by-side in the centre of their faction, having been welcomed back like conquering heroes, and listened shrewdly to the words of the Guest of Honour.

"And so," Fleur hesitated for a moment; she felt that her speech had gone well, though her audience's reaction to it had been largely unreadable, with most keeping the same expressions on their faces throughout – some welcoming and encouraging while others were filled with evident contempt, barely hiding the fact that they were looking down their nose at her and were clearly there only out of obligation and duty, rather than any desire to listen to what she had to say. The Queen racked her brain for a moment as she tried to recall the phrasing for the end of her speech; a glance at the Minister, who sat smiling at her, brought his son to mind, which helped her to recall what Harry had taught her, "to finish we wish to thank you all for your attention and for inviting us to your country and to speak to you all today. We, and _all_ the Veelas of the earth, look forward to many years of friendship with you," one or two of the Wizengamot members perked up a little at this, rather liking the idea of 'friendship' with the beautiful women who had descended on the Ministry today, "and working together for our common goals and future security. Thank you," she finished.

James, Frank and Barty stood, leading the applause which became a polite ovation for the Queen, with some of the wizards continuing to applaud longer than others. Finally she sat down and took a welcome draught of water as James, still standing, invited questions from the body. At this point Hermione sidled up to the Queen's table and held a quick, murmured exchange with her before the first of the questions was asked; for each one, Hermione would translate it and then also translate the Queen's reply for the chamber – in doing so she became the first first-generation mage to speak during one of the Wizengamot's sessions, something that caused some consternation for the more traditional members, though the threatened walk-out had not materialised.

" _What's Granger doing here?" Member Theodore Nott Sr had demanded of the Minister when he entered the Courtroom shortly before the Queen's retinue and saw the young head of the Magical Research Department; he acted as if the young woman couldn't hear him, despite her being stood next to the Minister._

" _She is here to act as a translator for the Queen during the Question-and-answer session following her speech, as she speaks fluent French."_

" _So does my son, he could have done it," Nott had protested._

" _Your son is not a Department Head," Potter then countered._

" _No, but he_ is _Pureblood and she's…" he looked down his nose at Granger; Hermione stared back, straight-backed and defiant._

" _First-generation like my wife?" James snapped at him; Nott's eyes widened for a moment as he realised that he needed to carefully consider his next words._

" _I just hope," he said after a short pause, "that she doesn't breach protocol, inadvertently of course since she hasn't had the training some of us have," he spoke sycophantically, his tone fooling nobody, particularly as he continued to glare at her; she stared resolutely back, "and embarrass your Ministry." He gave an insolent bow to the country's leader and returned to his cronies to await the Queen's arrival._

" _You do a good enough job of that for the whole Ministry," James muttered at his back; he turned and gave the young woman a reassuring smile. She tried to return it but it looked far more like a grimace._

 _Main Hall_

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

A brooding Harry Potter cast his eye around the room as he entered. Whilst he understood the reasons why he wasn't in Britain, he still wasn't too happy about it; that Danielle _had_ gone was also a disappointment to him as he already found himself missing her. He could recognise many of the women in the room now but still didn't know too many of them well enough to really talk to, having spent most of his time with the more senior courtiers, most of whom were on the Royal Visit. He was making his way to a secluded table when a red-robed woman waved to him, beckoning him over to her group.

"Please, sit with us, Ambassador," she invited him. With a smile he acquiesced; his meal appearing before him as he took the seat next to hers.

"How are you, Ambassador?" one of the other women at the table asked.

I'm well, thank you," he replied, "and you?" he looked around to show that he was addressing the question to the table, most of whom were former members of the exclave, though a couple wore the pale blue of the main court.

The women confirmed that they were also well. "I heard you could not go home because of your saving us," the one who had invited him spoke up. "I wished to apologise for that," she added when he nodded in confirmation.

"It wasn't your doing," he shrugged. "I don't regret acting to save you all, even if I don't like _what_ I did in Bulgaria."

"When will you be able to go home again?" another asked; he shrugged again.

"At the moment we don't know. We know some of our people were sympathising with the Empire – that's why one of them had some of the armoured robes that I wear," he gestured to his attire, "but we don't know how deep or how high into our government the conspiracy goes. Until we've done the investigation… it's safer for me here where they can't touch me."

"We would happily keep you from getting lonely," she smiled innocently; he nodded his thanks.

Approaching from behind, Gabrielle had to hide her scowl at what she saw as someone _else_ flirting with Harry. "Do you mind if I join you?" she asked, slipping into the chair on his other side without waiting for an answer. "The Queen mentioned that some of your friends will be visiting you soon," she mentioned casually.

"She told you that?" Harry asked in surprise.

"She had to inform the court," she shrugged indifferently, trying to assuage his suspicions. "If more non-Veelas, and especially other males, are going to be in our home, our people need to be aware."

"Of course," he agreed idly; for a moment he mused on the potential consequences of other people visiting and how the natives would cope before he turned back to his meal, rather to Gabbi's annoyance as she had hoped to garner his attention.

* * *

"Will you be needing anything this evening, Excellency?" Gabrielle asked as the group stood from the table after they had all finished.

"No, thank you Gabbi," he replied politely. "I have business to attend to; I wish to contact my Minister to see how today went."

She nodded. "I'm sure we will learn the Queen's view on how things went soon, too," she commented with a small smile and they went on their respective ways.

 _16 Peverell Road,_

 _Godric's Hollow, United Kingdom_

"Hi mum," Harry smiled at Lily as his head appeared in the Potters' fireplace. "Dad, how did it go today?"

"As well as could be expected," James admitted, weariness etched in each syllable. "Queen Fleur delivered her speech very well and it was well received by the people you'd expect to like it, those you'd think wouldn't like the Veelas didn't and they didn't like her speech either."

"And afterwards?" Harry saw his father wince.

"The chamber was pretty hostile during questioning – though for many I think they were more offended by Granger's presence than the Queen's," he admitted. "She answered everything well enough, which helped – even if they didn't _like_ some of her answers."

"She's clearly not a politician if she's answering questions," Harry grinned; his mum chuckled while his dad pretended to look affronted.

"The chamber wanted a lot more specifics," James continued, sounding a little more relaxed, "about what the Veelas were going to be bringing to the alliance. She explained that at the moment it was mostly intelligence gathering, citing the enclaves they have, both around Europe and beyond, and the news we'd received from them, which of course transitioned into questions about the Bulgarians wanting your arrest and some of the members looking to blame her, and her people for that."

"How did she respond? Fireballs?" Harry grimaced; his parents sniggered again.

"Not quite, but she wasn't happy. She _did_ admit that the meeting hadn't gone exactly as planned, and did mollify the Wizengamot by thanking Britain for the rescue of the girls we managed to spirit away."

"Anything else that was asked?"

"Nothing too important," James shrugged. "Some of it was a none too subtle attempt to portray the Veelas, and therefore the alliance, as useless in the guise of a question; the Queen dealt with them quite well."

"I can see her being rather hurt by these allegations though," Harry complained.

"She _was_ ," James agreed, "though I made sure to let her know that the Ministry valued her and her people even if some in the chamber did not. That seemed to at least mitigate the damage. There was also discomfort at the rapid response unit of Aurors we're preparing for if the Empire attack the Veelas' castle directly. They seem to like the idea of the highly trained unit, but not having it on call for the Veelas."

"Was Regulus there?" Harry asked; his father nodded.

"He was, so was Macnair. I had Frank and Barty keep an eye on them during the speech; they were more attentive than their cronies but gave no real hint of what they thought of it and then left as quickly as decency allowed."

"Is everything planned and arranged for the rest of her visit?" Harry asked once James had finished going over the other, more minor details of the session.

"Yes," his dad confirmed, "we go up to Hogwarts in the morning. It will be nice to surprise the twins and see them again," he smiled at the thought of seeing his daughters a few weeks earlier than they were expecting to, when they came home for Christmas. "After that we go to Hogsmeade for a look around and then Wednesday morning we tour Diagon Alley before the last meeting," he suddenly looked a little less happy at the thought.

"You're not looking forward to that one quite so much?" Harry guessed; James shook his head.

"It could be rather fraught," the Minister conceded.

 _Courtroom 1,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

 _Wednesday, 3_ _rd_ _December 2003_

As James had predicted, and feared, the air in the room was thick with tension; the French Minister continued to sneak suspicious glances at the Veela monarch as she sat, quietly listening in on the conversation (Hermione again acting as an interpreter for her as the European leaders were, as usual, using English as their lingua franca and the French woman was reluctant to engage Fleur in conversation directly, or at all, preferring to glower in silence while the Queen was speaking).

"Your pardon, Minister," Fleur spoke up in her limited English as the talks lulled; she then turned to the French leader and, switching back to French, asked, "Is there a reason why you don't like me?"

The French woman seemed taken aback at the Queen's bluntness; as she remained silent Fleur continued, "You haven't even attempted to hide it; I was just curious as to the reason."

After stealing a glance at the rest of the table (the Dutch, Belgian and Luxembourgish Ministers could probably follow the conversation but the British, Irish, German, Spanish, Italian and Portuguese leaders were already lost) the French Minister leaned forwards and looked Fleur in the eye.

"Yes," she admitted, "but now is not the time to discuss it," she added with another quick but meaningful glance towards the other leaders.

"On the contrary," Fleur countered, "if you do not believe we should be welcome in your group of allies then now is the perfect time to say why."

"Very well," she sighed, "it has been more than one hundred years since the Veelas," she managed to stop herself from referring to them in a more derogatory way, "were exiled from our lands…"

"That's what you were told?" Fleur asked incredulously.

"It's the truth," she fired back; the other leaders, whether they were following the conversation or not, looked a little troubled at the way their colleague was behaving, not what they usually saw during these summits.

"The truth according to France," the Queen shook her head.

"Your _people_ attacked and burned down a magical village," the French leader stated confidently. "It was the latest assault on our country; the remaining Veelas were rounded up and given the choice to leave or to die." Again she exercised sufficient restraint to avoid expressing her disappointment that they elected to leave.

"We have a different story," Fleur countered. "The villages _were_ burnt down but by your Ministry; they were _our_ people's homes that were destroyed. We lived beside other witches, took wizard husbands and worked side-by-side with others for hundreds of years before the attacks began to happen, mainly from jealous witches." The Frenchwoman shook her head at the claims. "There is probably truth to claims that the best men and best husbands chose Veelas over other witches," she conceded, though saying so did little to appease the French Minister, "and that this fuelled the resentment but our people were being hunted, our husbands murdered for being with us; we had to flee so we did and founded our own land away from the bigotry and persecution we were suffering."

"You have your truth, I have mine," the Belgian leader smirked, beginning to enjoy the show; it was rather entertaining and refreshing to see the usually polite, diplomatic discourse being replaced by much more frank and forthright language.

"Whatever the story," his French counterpart continued, "I think too much has happened in the past for it to be erased overnight and for trust to blossom. I remain suspicious of you and, given what I have been taught of your people's past atrocities, of your intentions. It will take much to convince me that you are a trustworthy ally."

"But the Empire poses an immediate threat to all of us as they continue to expand their territory and consolidate their hold on Eastern Europe," Hermione interjected; she had been trying to keep James informed of the salient points of the tense discussion. The other Ministers turned to her with a look of disapproval and she shrank back in her seat a little.

"She speaks the truth," Fleur agreed, glancing at the reddening young woman.

"She should not be speaking at all," the Belgian muttered, increasing Hermione's coloration.

"I suppose that you are the enemy of my enemy," the French Minister accepted reluctantly, ignoring the by-play. "Your intelligence from Bulgaria is useful and your closeness to their border makes you a useful resource for our group. It will be difficult to build trust but this could be a first step towards it."

With France, however grudgingly, on board, the Veelas were unanimously admitted into the alliance, though it was agreed that diplomatic relations between them and the other nations would wait until both they and Britain had seen how things worked over a longer period.

With that the meeting came to an end; hands were shaken and the various Ministers left, heading back to their home countries, leaving James and Hermione at the table while Fleur rejoined her retinue to prepare to do likewise.

"I'm sorry," the Department Head spoke quietly, "I didn't mean to overstep the bounds but I thought I could help."

"I don't know what you said," James admitted, "but it seemed to help – even if the others felt you shouldn't have spoken. There _is_ an opinion, which they seemed to share, that these talks are for national leaders only and that your job was just that of a translator, despite your position." When Hermione lowered her eyes James patted her shoulder. "I don't subscribe to that; Harry told me how smart you are and, like him, I value your insight." This certainly brightened Granger's expression. "Just try not to say _too_ much in the cross-departmental meetings," he suggested; when her face fell he hurriedly added, "there are others that I don't want to encourage to speak up," he gave her a conspiratorial smile.

"And there are those who resent me being there due to my blood status," she felt compelled to add; he nodded.

"Unfortunately, everywhere in life we find those who always think they're better than the rest," he sighed as they left the now-empty room.

 _Director's Office,_

 _Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

"Ah, Longbottom. You've reviewed the evidence?" Bones asked as she saw Neville approach with the heap of parchment he'd been given a couple of days earlier.

"Yes," he confirmed, relief evident in his voice. "I added a one page summary of my thoughts and findings so you can see how they compare to your own."

His boss snatched up the paper he'd written and studied it, nodding at most of it before holding it closer to her face and squinting a little through her non-monocled eye.

"Interesting, not something I'd thought of," she muttered, picking up a quill and scribbling on the paper that contained her own findings. "Thank you, Longbottom, I think we're ready to present this to the Minister. I'd like you to do it, and I've a feeling you will be needed to escort a high profile person or two to the Ministry before long," she added with a small smile.

Neville nodded, grinning himself and quietly looking forward to the assignment.

 _Royal Office,_

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

Fleur maintained her regal posture until the last of her party had left the office; it was fairly late in the evening and the kitchens had been alerted to provide a late dinner for them (she had asked for her own to be delivered to the office). Once she was alone she immediately slumped into her chair and leaned backwards, eyes closed. It had been a long and tiring few days for her, involved in so many draining meetings and sessions on her whistle-stop tour of magical Britain. She reflected on how the week had gone, particularly on the meeting with leaders of other countries and her argument with the French leader. After so many years of isolation for her people she was having to learn that the history she, and the Veelas in general, had been taught was markedly different to that learnt in other countries and she was finding out that it was just as difficult, if not more so, than she'd thought it would be to bring her people out of seclusion and back into global society. _Was it worth it?_ She briefly asked herself before thinking back on the attack on her exclave by the Bulgarians – that led her to immediately conclude that it was, that without Britain's help the outcome would have been even worse than it had been. She also thought of the Ambassador, Harry, and found herself speculating that, maybe, one day there would be others living among them and a consequent fresh infusion of bloodlines and cultures into their society, something that she felt would certainly help – if it was introduced slowly and managed properly.

She lost track of how long she'd sat there alone, eyes closed, when a knock on the door brought her back to the present. "Enter," she called, sitting up and opening her eyes just as Gabrielle slipped into the room.

"How are you, my sister?" she asked. "How was the trip?"

"Exhausting," the Queen grimaced before forcing herself to smile, "but well worth the visit. I cannot believe how far we have come in just a few months since the Ambassador made contact with us. I really do now think that one day we will find our people back in magical society, though it will take a long time – perhaps not even in my lifetime before it really happens."

"Speaking of the Ambassador," Gabrielle began innocently, "did they suggest that we have one of our own?"

Fleur nodded, slightly suspiciously. "It _was_ proposed," she confirmed. "I will give some thought to who the best person for the position to represent us in Britain would be."

Her sister's eyes lit up malevolently. "If I may make a suggestion, my Queen…" she began deferentially.

 _Ambassador's Suite_

Harry lifted his gaze from his desk at the knock on the door. "One minute," he called as he tidied the papers he was reviewing, they were papers that his father had sent pertaining to the Queen's visit to Britain, and slipped them into a drawer. Crossing the room and opening the door to his suite he saw Danielle stood before him. His face lit up into a smile, one that was mirrored on hers.

"Can I come in, Ambassador?" she asked formally, a trace of fatigue in her voice.

"Of course," he stepped back and bade her enter. "Can I get you a drink?" he offered; she accepted gratefully and spent the next hour filling him in on her view of the way the week had gone, while he spoke a little of what had happened in the retinue's absence.

"Some of your countrymen were very rude," she complained. "It was obvious that they considered us to be beneath them. Of course we have always been taught that this is the case with wizards but after experiencing how you behave towards us – to actually see their behaviour for myself…" she shook her head.

"It's one of the many things that we hope the alliance will achieve in time – a change in attitudes, but it will obviously take _a lot_ of time, and interaction, for that to happen," he conceded. "At least nobody tried to _obliviate_ you?" he asked with a small grin.

She smirked and shook her head, silvery-blond hair splaying around her head and shoulders as she did. "I suppose _both_ sides have some changes to make to their views."

"It will come in time," he stated confidently; his arm was draped around the blonde and he pulled her closer. "But for some of us," he smiled as they faced one another, "working closely together for mutual benefit is already happening."

Danielle giggled at his words as she leaned in for a kiss.

"I've missed this over the last few days," she admitted; it was a statement he could definitely agree with. They slowly stripped one another and made their way to his bed, both feeling that this was something else that they had both missed, and eager to make up for lost time.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

 _Thursday, 4_ _th_ _December 2003_

As soon as Neville left the Minister's office, having handed over the DMLE's findings and recommendations, James began to devour the findings, his eyes widening more and more as he did. Once he'd finished he called for Sirius to join him; the Minister was practically glowing as his old friend entered the office.

"This is the DMLE report on the Malfoy Conspiracy, Padfoot," he said excitedly as Sirius sat. "I can't show you it… _yet_ ," he added conspiratorially, "but some of this could be _dynamite_."

"I wouldn't have thought you'd be able to show me it at all, Prongs," he replied, surprised, suppressing a grin at the non-magical expression his friend had picked up from his wife. "Isn't this sort of report strictly for the eyes of the Wizengamot only? With a summary eventually finding its way into the newspapers?"

"Yes it is," the Minister confirmed with a knowing grin, "which is why I said 'not yet'."

Sirius was extremely confused now.

"We're in almost unchartered territory," James continued as if oblivious to his friend's perplexedness. "The big question is how much support Regulus – and Macnair for that matter – has with the Independents, and how concerned that group are about the Empire."

Sirius's eyes widened as he understood what his old friend was driving at. "You _really_ think the contents of the report will bring down my brother?"

James gave a small nod. "I'm sure it's enough for it to come to a vote, and even _that_ would be historic," Sirius returned his nod; nobody had been voted off the Wizengamot in centuries and there hadn't been a vote on removal in living memory, "there are plenty of questions in here," he tapped the pile of parchment, "that I'd like the two of them to have to answer about their links to the Empire. I'm certainly not convinced that their loyalties are _wholly_ with us and I doubt I'll be the only one once the Wizengamot read this. Obviously we'd have to gauge the mood in the chamber while they answer them but I really can see a vote to oust them being called…"

"The Empire issue could work either way though," Sirius interrupted cautiously. "If they're _really_ concerned about the Eastern power then somebody who is on good terms with them could be an attractive proposition; they could lobby you to let him lead dialogue with them."

"True," the Minister conceded, "but it's unlikely, especially for the Independents and on the back of the Veela Queen's successful visit, bringing with it more warnings of what they're really like. It's far _more_ likely, I think, that they'll want to clean house and get rid of anyone in the government chamber who is associated with them and, since he doesn't have an heir of his own yet…"

"And he can't name his own successor because I'm still around," Padfoot added, joining the last of the dots.

"Exactly – that law was brought in centuries ago to protect brothers who had been disinherited after a disagreement with their father; it's one that we can use to our advantage here."

"See, Prongs," Sirius grinned, "you don't have to repeal _all_ of the old ways with your modernising zeal."

His old friend just laughed before scribbling a note; he tapped it with his wand and it quickly folded into an aeroplane shape and flew out of the door.

"Now what?" Sirius asked as the Minister reclined in his chair.

"I've just sent for Barty; despite having recused themselves of late they are still members of the Wizengamot. The Chief Warlock is the only one with the authority to call them to appear before the body. Ah, Barty," he nodded as the aforementioned Crouch strode regally out of the fireplace.

"What is it, James?" he asked.

"The DMLE's findings," he gestured to the pile of parchment Neville had delivered. "We need to summon Black and Macnair and present this to the chamber."

Crouch's eyes almost fell out of his head. He looked suspiciously at Sirius. "You haven't shown this to anyone, have you?"

James shook his head. "Sirius hasn't read it." Padfoot confirmed that was true.

Crouch's face broke into a broad smile. "I take it that in addition to summoning them you also want me to circulate news of this among the Wizengamot?"

"Yes," James nodded, "the relevant faction leaders need to read this. Of course, by law we also need to give the summary to the rest of the body, and also the two of them, to allow them to prepare to counter it."

Crouch nodded. "I will review it before inviting the group leaders to do likewise; I'll also prepare the summary."

 _12 Grimmauld Place_

 _Friday, 5_ _th_ _December 2003_

"A hearing? A _hearing_?" Walden Macnair raged, having flooed over to the Black home after receiving his summons from Crouch. "Who the hell do they think they are, summoning us like common Mudbloods?"

"They believe we have a case to answer," Regulus replied evenly, "and, from what our friends have said they've seen in the papers, that is understandable." He scanned the parchment he'd been sent, mostly so he wouldn't have to stare at his colleague's increasingly puce-coloured face. "Malfoy's actions were found to be treasonous," he continued in a cautionary tone, "and he has paid the ultimate price for them; since Crouch, Potter and Longbottom have been able to portray it as a conspiracy, and one that we're tied to, it's understandable that they want to know how far it goes and how high up the government it goes."

Macnair threw his hands in the air. "We are senior members of the Wizengamot!" he cried. "We're _Purebloods_. We _run_ this damn country by birth right. We don't have to answer to Potter and his little band of Mudblood sympathisers."

"We do now," Black warned. "The mood in the country is changing and we haven't been able to stop it from happening through the chamber; Potter's been cleverly pushing his agenda through, building on what Crouch did before him and has been able to carry just enough support from the weathervanes and hopeful sycophants to do so. Mudbloods are gaining more rights and more of a foothold all the time. What we have to do now is survive these changes before we get our chance to push the pendulum back in the direction it _should_ be swinging." Macnair looked mutinous so he continued calmly, "It will happen in time. Once Mudbloods start taking _too many_ jobs and we have unemployed Purebloods depleting the old families' fortunes those same families will decide that equal rights for Mudbloods, while a laudable goal," he sneered, "isn't something to be yearned for in practice." Macnair still looked sceptical so Black concluded, "Don't worry, it's only a hearing. We'll go there on Monday, answer their questions, tell them what we know – _our_ version of things anyway," he added conspiratorially, "and once this investigation has blown over we can get back to opposing Potter's agenda: if anything our position will be _strengthened_ having come through this."

Macnair looked unhappy but he couldn't think of a better course of action so he just nodded his assent.

 _Courtroom 10,_

 _Ministry of Magic, London_

 _Monday, 8_ _th_ _December 2003_

"Member Black," Crouch began sombrely, "you have been called here to answer questions related to the plot to overthrow our country's government, the plot that cost Lucius Malfoy his life." Black grimaced as he was tied, however tangentially, to Malfoy's treason. "Are you willing to submit to _Veritaserum_ to answer an agreed list of questions?"

Black was standing in the middle of the circular room, the body of wizards surrounding him on all sides as his ire rose at the Chief Warlock's question. To his left he could see his allies, though they weren't exuding the confidence he was used to – and hoping to see (probably due to the way Macnair's hearing had gone; that Walden wasn't in the room concerned Regulus, who had expected him to have taken his seat again after the conclusion of his own hearing) while to his right sat Potter's cronies, some of whom looked positively jubilant. As ever the Independents (or weathervanes) sat between them, waiting to jump whichever way the wind was blowing to keep themselves on the right side of majority opinion. Black focussed his attention on his cabal, wondering why he hadn't heard from them over the weekend, ahead of the hearing; he was expecting to spend most of the weekend discussing this with them (in fact they'd taken the decision to distance themselves from him and Macnair in an effort to avoid being tainted by today's events). Finally he turned back to Crouch, to answer the insulting question he'd posed the only way that he felt he could.

"As a member of this august, noble and ancient body I invoke my right to refuse the use of said drug; my word as a member of this body has always and _should_ always be accepted as truth," he replied with defiant pomposity; the weathervanes murmured: while it _was_ his right to do so, and a long-standing 'gentlemen's understanding' existed saying that nobody would lie in the chamber, his refusal did little to shift the Independents' opinion in his favour, particularly in the aftermath of Macnair's belligerent, and ultimately valedictory, appearance.

"Very well," Crouch conceded defeat on the matter, knowing it was an argument that he couldn't win. "Despite your refusal we will still question you in order for the members of this chamber to determine the extent of your involvement in the plot, uncovered by the DMLE, which saw Lucius Malfoy caught handing government secrets and property to a hostile foreign power and his admission, under Veritaserum, that he wished for said power to take control of our government – and was planning to assist them in doing so. If there is deemed to be a case to answer then the chamber will vote on your continued membership of this august body."

Regulus blanched at this; to even _threaten_ to remove a member of the body was language considered unsuitable for the chamber, something that hadn't happened in _decades_ (until, not that he was aware of it, a few minutes ago) yet not one voice, not even his closest allies, spoke up in his defence. He also couldn't now submit to the drug without appearing weak and had a strong, sinking suspicion that he now knew why Macnair wasn't in the room. He was so concerned that he couldn't even muster any anger at Crouch's insinuation that his word _wasn't_ to be trusted as truth. Nor was his spinning mind able to acknowledge that not one of his allies spoke against Barty's words.

"Tell me, Member Black," Crouch began, "were you aware of the plot Lucius Malfoy revealed during his trial?"

"I was," Black replied, trying to sound as composed as he could; his insides, though, were churning – clearly Crouch knew a lot more than was in the summary he'd received if they'd voted to remove Macnair from his seat. "The plot was discussed at length between Malfoy, Macnair, Crouch," he looked meaningfully at the Chief Warlock, "Pettigrew, Goyle, Nott, Crabbe and Babbock."

"So a plot existed to overthrow our government and make us subservient to the East European Empire and you chose not to reveal it?"

"I didn't agree with that aspect of the plan," he countered, suddenly aware of how weak a defence it sounded; having no other options he pressed on. "Malfoy's intention was for Potter to be deposed; we hoped to do so within the laws of the chamber, preferably as a result of defeating him over the treaty with the Veelas, forcing his resignation. I would then put my name forward as the new Minister; having just won enough backing in the chamber to defeat the incumbent should see that support send me into the job. At that point I would not just hand the country over to the Empire. Why would I? Why take the top job only to hand it on to someone else?"

"You don't support the Empire?" Crouch challenged.

"I agree with _some_ of their views and policies of course," he admitted (to attempt a blanket denial would be folly given his voting record and some of the speeches he and his friends had made in the past); as the noise level around him rose he hurriedly continued with a defence of the statement, "I'm sure _everyone_ here can find _something_ they're saying or doing that they agree with," he tried to placate the chamber, "but that doesn't mean I want to become their puppet, which was Malfoy's vision – me as Minister in name only with Karkaroff pulling the strings. I'm sure I'd be more willing than Minister Potter would to work with them, but that's all," he stressed.

"So you didn't agree with handing government property over to them?" Crouch persisted; Black swallowed uncomfortably.

"We did feel it would reflect badly on Minister Potter and would accelerate his departure – which could in turn bring about my own ascension to the top job," he conceded before staring around the chamber. "I'm sure that is an ambition shared by _many_ of you," he challenged. "If it helped foster good relations between us and a major global power then I believed the ends justified the means."

It was clear that many in the chamber did not share that opinion; Black's heart sank further and he began to suspect his fate was sealed; as Crouch droned on he started to make a mental list of people who he could pass his seat on to – Narcissa Malfoy? Probably not, given what had just happened to her husband and son she wouldn't be a popular appointment, nor was she likely to be in any fit mental state to do so. Bellatrix? Too crazy, so it would probably have to be her husband…

* * *

When the vote came it was tight; it was far closer than Macnair's had been and Black was disappointed but not stunned to discover that he'd lost it (51 voted to remove him, just above the 50% necessary, 44 to retain him – including, he learnt, Macnair's proxy – with the other 5 abstaining). It was a major body blow to his faction, losing their leader, though his allies in the chamber seemed fairly relaxed since they were not expecting the balance of power in the Wizengamot to shift (after all, Macnair had named his young son – currently a third year at Hogwarts – as his replacement, hence nominating one of the faction to vote as a proxy to act until the lad came of age). They would just have to bide their time under new leadership – having all jockeyed for the position of course – and work in the chamber to keep their agenda alive and stop too much from changing while they waited for attitudes to shift back, as they invariably did over time.

"The chamber has spoken, Member Black, you know what you must do," Crouch reminded him, working to keep the glee from his voice; Black raised his wand reluctantly.

"As a result of this vote I am forced to relinquish my seat on this august body. _I hearby resign as a member of the Wizengamot_." A flash of light from his wand briefly engulfed him and he lowered his wand. "As I have no heir and am the only male in the Black family it falls upon me to name…"

"On a point of order," James interrupted him. "There is, of course, another male Black," he reminded the room.

"He is _not_ part of our family; father removed him from the Noble and Ancient House of Black!" Regulus snapped.

"Ah, that is incorrect," Potter countered. "It was your _mother_ who attempted to remove him, but that's an irrelevance; under the law of the land he remains the next in line for the seat," James countered.

"That law was not designed for…" Black started.

"On the contrary," he was interrupted again by the Minister, "this is _exactly_ what the law is there for – to stop a head of house from handing on the seat to another family just because an heir has been cast out over familial disagreements."

"But… but…" he floundered; his allies looked horrified as realisation sank in.

"I therefore," James continued smoothly, "invite Sirius Black to take up the newly vacated Black seat in the Wizengamot."

The doors at the front of the room opened and Sirius strolled in, resplendent in scarlet and gold dress robes; he smiled at his seething brother before coming to a stop in front of the Minister.

Sirius took the oath of the Wizengamot and then headed to James's allies, taking a seat among them. As he was now no longer a member, Regulus angrily stormed from the room, vowing his revenge on the Minister and his cronies.

"You will, of course, Member Black, receive your official robes of office later on today," James smiled at his old friend, rather amused at his colourful attire amid a sea of deep purple. As Crouch brought down the gavel on the session he added quietly, "For now we should celebrate; I'm sure neither Barty nor Lily would say no to a small celebratory drink." Sirius grinned and they got to their feet.

 _12 Grimmauld Place_

"So we had nothing to worry about then?" Macnair spat as he stormed from the floo, coming face-to-face with an equally irate Regulus Black.

"At least _you_ still have control of your seat," Black griped. "My _dear_ brother has taken mine; that seat is lost to our cause now."

"Unless he meets with an unfortunate accident," the other muttered darkly; Black refused to comment.

"I think," he said instead, "it's time for a change in strategy." He looked at his comrade. "We have Malfoy's contacts; we should contact the Empire."

Macnair's jaw dropped. "You would commit treason?" he reminded him of Lucius's fate.

"What _Malfoy_ did was treason," Black countered; with a contrived air of innocence he continued, "we would simply be two citizens of Britain visiting another country. As dignitaries, former members of the government, we _might_ be able to meet with some members of their government. Nothing improper about that at all," he smiled; Macnair was nodding his enthusiastic agreement. "And of course _as_ former members of the government body we have knowledge of an illegal incursion that some of our country's forces partook in; I think we should apologise on Britain's behalf for it, don't you?"

His friend's smile widened. "Let's do it."

 _Royal Office,_

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

 _Tuesday, 9_ _th_ _December 2003_

"You wished to see me, Your Majesty?" Harry responded to the Queen's summons and made his way to her office.

"Yes, take a seat, please Ambassador," she gestured to the chair across the desk from herself and, with her other hand, dismissed her guards with a wave. "I had hoped to discuss things with you earlier but," she shrugged, "I trust by now that you have heard from your government about our visit last week?"

"I have," Harry confirmed. "My Minister was pleased with the agreement reached with the European Heads of Government. He wishes to reiterate his regret at the way some of your retinue were treated by certain members of the Wizengamot and to apologise for any slights you may have felt as a result of their behaviour."

Fleur nodded. "Having seen how some of our court treated _you_ , Ambassador, we are in no position to complain about attitudes of a minority, particularly when they are not shared by the upper echelons of the government. We thank your Minister for his words and share his overall satisfaction with the trip."

"He feels your speech was particularly well received."

"The questioning afterwards suggested otherwise," Fleur observed dryly.

Harry made a face. "It was, by design, a speech that lacked specifics; the first statement by a Veela Queen to the British Wizengamot in… well, centuries probably…"

"Ever," the Queen corrected. "Before our retreat from magical society and foundation of our own sovereign nation we would have been represented by the government whose lands we inhabited. Though it would be difficult for her to rise that far I suppose a Veela _may_ have spoken to your government in the past but never as leader _of_ the Veelas."

"I suppose it's understandable that they wanted details, and equally logical that you didn't want the speech to be full of them, detracting from the main substance of it – forging a new relationship between us."

Fleur shot him a glance and gave a small grin, one that, to her disappointment, Harry missed.

* * *

"What time do your friends arrive tomorrow?" she asked, changing the subject once the major affairs of state had been deliberated.

"For us, probably late morning. For them, not long after breakfast. They will be flooing from our Minister's Office directly to my suite."

The Queen nodded, having recently experienced the time difference between the two countries herself she was aware of the confusions that were possible with it. "I will try to meet with them during their visit; if nothing else then perhaps at dinner."

"I'm sure they would like that, Your Majesty," Harry replied pleasantly.

"Please, 'Arry," she spoke softly, "I know things have been… different – and difficult – since the incident in our exclave but I would prefer to meet them as your friend than as the Queen. I know I _can't_ stop being Queen," she continued with a grin, "but I would like it to be as informal a meeting as possible."

Harry also smiled. "That would be ideal. I'm sure Neville will be comfortable; with his father being Deputy Minister and knowing the Minister as well as he does," they shared a snigger, "he is used to being around dignitaries. His girlfriend..? I don't know, she might get a little star-struck so knocking the formality out of things might help."

"I will see you at breakfast and we can talk some more," she promised. Harry nodded and left with a bow.

 _Ambassador's Suite,_

 _Wednesday, 10_ _th_ _December 2003_

"Harry!" Neville exclaimed as he saw his oldest friend; he stepped from the floo and into a hug with the acting Ambassador, who then turned his attention to the girl who'd exited the floo with him.

"Hello Jennifer, lovely to see you again," he kissed her cheek. The two newcomers, though, were looking at the other person in the room. Neville recognised her and, after shooting an inquisitive glance at a grinning Harry, who gave an almost imperceptible nod in response, took Danielle's hand and kissed the back of it.

"Hello Danielle," he smiled, switching to flawless French. "I wasn't expecting to see you quite so soon."

His girlfriend greeted the blonde with an awkward smile and nod; she wasn't overly fluent in French and knew the Veelas of the enclave spoke little-to-no English. A muttered _bonjour_ was about the limit of the French she could recall from Primary School; Danielle returned a quiet hello (almost the extent of her English) as Neville handled the introductions.

"I didn't realise you two were a couple," he observed, half-accusingly as they left the suite for a tour of the castle.

"It's not exactly official," Harry explained with an apologetic smile. "She insists that she expects nothing from me but we _are_ uh… close and seem good together." He saw the two Britons staring at him and added, "I'd like to see how this thing goes."

Jen sniggered. "The two wild boys of Gryffindor have been tamed!" she declared with mock-smug satisfaction. "Just goes to show we can train _any_ of you."

Neville tried to shoot her a dirty look but it soon turned into a grin; Harry, meanwhile, shrugged and came up with something plausible that he could tell an inquisitive-looking Danielle.

* * *

"Neville!" A young Veela slammed into the surprised Auror as they reached the school area, one of the final stops on their tour (Danielle had had to leave them earlier to attend to business around the castle); he instinctively wrapped his arms around the girl, much to his girlfriend's amusement.

"Hello, Radka," he said, recognising her as one of the girls he and the others had rescued from Bulgaria. Unlike the adult Veelas the girls had chosen to change their red robes for the pale blue of the castle, helping them to blend in with the native girls.

"Have you been able to rescue my sister?" she asked in the way that only young children can get away with; Neville looked uncomfortable at her enquiry.

"We don't know exactly where she is," he admitted. "We know _one_ of the senior members of their Ministry has her – the girls have all been taken by one or other of them, but we don't know where they all live, nor do we have the people at the moment to launch a full-on raid of all the properties."

"Plus if you got caught," Jen shuddered as Harry rapidly translated the discussion, "or even if you didn't but they knew who had done it…" she tailed off.

"The diplomatic consequences would be catastrophic," Harry nodded. "It would mean war."

"So you won't rescue her?" the little girl demanded as they explained this to her, tears welling in her eyes. Neville dropped to his knees and took her hands in his.

"We _want_ to but it's going to be very difficult for us to do so. You were all in the same place so it was a lot less difficult to get you all out of there. Having to go to so many houses at the same time… it's a lot harder and, as Harry said, if we make a mess of it then the whole continent could end up at war."

"I don't care," the girl wailed, "I just want my sister back."

Neville looked desperately at Harry; it was an expression mirrored on his girlfriend's face as she, too, looked at him, pleading with her eyes to find some way of helping the distraught little girl.

"We're due to meet the Queen later; we can speak to her then," he promised.

It was enough to mollify the little Veela; she hugged the three Britons and sped off happily.

 _Royal Office_

The Queen did meet them over dinner; Jennifer was as star-struck as Harry had predicted, though Neville's slack-jawed response to the regal attire quickly snapped her out of her reverie; she began quickly trying to garner her beau's attention, much to Harry's amusement.

They accepted an invitation for a private, informal audience in the Royal Office once dinner was over; as they were preparing to leave the Dining Hall, not wanting to keep her waiting, Harry caught sight of one of the young attendants; he bustled over to speak to her and the girl nodded before rushing off.

"Nothing too important," he assured his compatriots as they walked towards the office, "just something for later on tonight."

With a nod to the guards the office door was opened and they were granted entry to Fleur's offices.

* * *

"There _is_ one more thing, Your Majesty," Harry spoke as the informal discussion (which included Fleur almost pleading with Neville to tell amusing stories of Harry's childhood; he was more than happy to oblige) was winding down; recognising his more formal tone Fleur adopted a business-like expression as she looked at him. "We were approached by one of the children about the girls who we were unable to rescue from Bulgaria." Jennifer, who had not been able to contribute too much but, to her surprise, had managed to follow more of the conversation than she expected to, as her French schooling came back to her, increased her concentration, picking up on the officiousness of Harry's tone even if she didn't know what he was saying.

Fleur frowned at his revelation; the thought of some of young Veelas being held captive was not a pleasant one. She had to force herself not to dwell on them, though they were never far from her mind."

"What do you propose?" she asked.

"It would be extremely difficult for Britain to lead a mission," he began in an apologetic tone. "With the disputed nature of the territory there are many in the ICW who would see it as an internal matter for Bulgaria, rather than an abduction of foreign children. It is also, therefore, possible that our friends would be reluctant to risk war in order to participate – and war would be inevitable if the Empire caught our operatives or found out we were behind the girls' recovery. Despite the alliance I'm not even convinced the Wizengamot would sanction such a mission," he admitted.

"This is, indeed, unfortunate," she bristled.

"There might be another way," Neville speculated, having been thinking about the problem ever since his discussion with the Veela child earlier in the day. "Maybe if our Aurors can find out _where_ they are then you could send some Veelas to do the actual rescue?"

"That would be excellent, Nev," Harry agreed; he turned to Fleur. "This way we could cover ourselves by acting well within international law – discovering the home address of foreign politicians isn't in any way unlawful in and of itself, nor is passing information, including that, on to an ally. What _you_ _do_ with the information isn't something we can be blamed for while the girls' Veela heritage means any Bulgarian claims of sovereignty are rather murkier."

"I will begin to prepare a task force," the Queen replied. "Thank you for the proposal; I hope you will keep us updated on it?"

Neville nodded. "I'll approach our director, Madam Bones, in the morning and see if she agrees to it."

"Some charmed robes would also help our allies, and again sharing technology with an ally is in no way unlawful," Harry proposed; Neville agreed to add it to the list of topics under discussion, but they all doubted that Bones would refuse the suggestions.

* * *

"You were quiet in there," Neville spoke to his girlfriend as the three returned to the Ambassador's suite so Harry's guests could floo home.

"I couldn't follow too much of it in real time, not until one of you explained things to me – and I didn't feel it was my place to add anything anyway," she replied.

"If you had any suggestions," Harry countered, "or _anything_ to add then you should have spoken. It's essential that we get these girls back and save them from whatever fate the Bulgarians have planned for them and anything you could suggest would have been listened to."

She smiled gratefully. "Thanks, but I'm just a lower league seeker," she laughed self-deprecatingly, "I really didn't have anything important to add."

"Well any time that you _do_ ," Neville squeezed her hand, "speak up, especially in an informal setting like that."

She almost choked laughing. "That was the _Royal Office_ ," she gasped once she had her mirth under control. " _Nobody_ could call it an informal setting."

"Well it wasn't a formal _meeting_ ," he amended, "and _I_ always welcome your views."

"I'll remember you saying that," she threatened/promised with a snigger.

"Some people will never learn," Harry jibed; Neville pretended to groan.

Danielle came across the trio a couple of corridors from Harry's rooms; she took Harry's hand and joined them as they entered his suite where Neville and his girlfriend said their goodbyes.

"You'll have to come to a game one weekend," Jen urged.

"Is it safe for Harry?" Danielle asked in concern, mindful of the visit he'd just missed out on.

"It _should_ be now," Neville said. "Now that we've finished our investigation and found out exactly who was involved. The Wizengamot has been decontaminated so I don't think there's any danger to you."

"My dad agrees," Harry nodded, "so I'm already planning on visiting at Christmas." He turned to Jennifer. "Watching a Quidditch game sounds good, though I think the danger could come to Danielle," he turned to the blonde. "I'm not sure she's ready for several hours on a windswept Ilkley Moor."

"I'm sure you will find some way of keeping me warm," she shot back playfully, causing Neville and his girlfriend to cheer.

"We'll be there for a game then," he promised.

"Do you have plans for the evening, Ambassador?" Danielle asked once the others had stepped through the floo and back to Britain.

"Well after dinner I asked one of the attendants if they could prepare a bath for me this evening," he answered. "She said she would be by an hour and a half after we left, to give us time to have our meeting with the Queen so hopefully…" he trailed off as he walked into his bathroom, eyes lighting up as he saw the tub full of steaming hot water. "Excellent," he smiled.

"It certainly is," the blonde agreed with a smile of her own; she shed her robes and stepped into the tub, sinking into the water. "What are you waiting for?" she demanded with a playful waggle of her eyebrows.

"Nothing at all," Harry smiled, stripping and joining the girl in the hot water.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

 _12 Grimmauld Place,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

 _Thursday, 11_ _th_ _December 2003_

"You wished to see me, Regulus?" Theodore Nott Sr stepped out of the fireplace; he sounded both weary and disinterested, as if he'd _really_ rather not be keeping this appointment.

"Yes," Black confirmed, rather put out by the terse greeting; he'd expected at least an apology for keeping him waiting for a day or two to meet him. "I wanted to discuss our response to Potter's manoeuvres and the ousting of Walden and me."

"'Our response'?" Nott echoed, stopping his host in his tracks; he'd expected that the faction would be planning to overcome the loss of two of its members (and one of its seats in the chamber) and be looking to come out swinging in the New Year.

"Potter's attacked our group and his move has threatened to permanently shift the balance of power in the Wizengamot! Are you telling me we're just going to let him?"

"You misunderstand me," Nott replied. "Moves _are_ afoot, our new leader is to meet with the Minister today. What I mean, Mr Black, is there's no _us_ anymore: you two were expelled from the chamber; we can't be associated with you anymore."

Black was stunned. "So that's it? Despite how long we've been allies, _friends!_ Despite how long we've worked together in the chamber – it's just thanks and goodbye?"

"It has to be this way," Nott replied calmly; the shake of his head may have implied remorse but there was little in his voice. "Your standing now is that of borderline traitors," he pointed out, "we can't _afford_ to be associated with you right now. Without the protection of a Wizengamot seat your every move can _and will_ be closely scrutinised; if we stay associated with you then Potter, Crouch and Longbottom will look _very_ closely at you and use anything you do to further marginalise us and our aims."

By now Regulus was shaking his head in disbelief. He managed to collect himself. "What if there was a change of Minister? Say to someone of a less radical persuasion, someone who didn't view things so… one-dimensionally as Potter?"

"Be very careful where you go with this conversation, _Mr_ Black," Nott warned formally. "As I said, you no longer have the protection of Wizengamot membership."

"Merely a hypothetical, Nott," Black replied with forced calm; he decided to rephrase. "So nobody in _your_ ," he spat out the word as an acknowledgement that the faction was under different management now, "group would be interested in… dialogue with the Eastern power?" his voice was delicate but the challenge was evident.

"After seeing the loss of two members' seats? Nobody will be going anywhere _near_ those lands on an unauthorised visit for a _long_ time," was the reply. Regulus and Walden were clearly on their own for now.

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic_

James sighed as he looked at the clock. The Minister's schedule had meant being able to put this meeting off for a couple of days but finally he could delay it no more. Right on time there was a knock on his door; Lily announced the visitor, one who looked thoroughly displeased that _she_ had introduced him.

"Mr Jugson, what can I do for you?" Potter was surprised at the identity of the new leader of his main rival faction; Jugson had always struck him as a follower rather than a leader, certainly not somebody who had the sort of presence in the chamber that his predecessor did. He wondered if this was intentional; that they were licking their wounds and lying low for a while in the aftermath of losing Black and Macnair.

"You can tell me what you're playing at, Minister," the other asked without preamble, taking a seat and pulling it closer to the desk. When James looked perplexed (more at the unexpected aggression than anything else) he continued, "Changing the balance of power in the chamber the way you did, getting Black's brother in there."

"Oh come, sir," James's tone was a little condescending, "our whole _life_ is about affecting the balance of power isn't it? Trying to persuade people to join our little groups, influencing the Independents so they vote one way and not the other. Sons often vote differently to the way their fathers did when they inherit a seat so this situation is far from uncommon."

Jugson did not look convinced. "Tread carefully, Minister; the weathervanes don't like it when one faction becomes too powerful."

"It would be a nice problem to have," Potter smirked, "but I _can_ assure you that I won't be going for more reforms at breakneck speed."

"That would make a change," the other griped.

"What we've done hasn't actually been that much or that fast," he countered defensively, "when you take 'our run' as starting with Barty Crouch. Look, Andy," he leaned forward on his hands; Jugson frowned a little at the familiarity implied by the diminution of his name, "no matter how much your group have clung to the old ways and wanted to continue to do so – _things are changing_ ; the _country_ is changing. Ignoring First-gens…"

"Has been done for _centuries_ ," Jugson interrupted.

"And look where it's got us! The Great American Exodus left a rift that our world _still_ hasn't recovered from – almost four hundred years later! You might not like having First-gens involved in things but continuing to just send them abroad after they finish school is a national catastrophe!"

"I don't see why," his guest retorted. "It means they're not trying to change things and we just carry on as always."

"Yes," Potter nodded scathingly, "we carry on as we always have while the Magical World around us changes and, crucially, advances. New concepts, new ideas, new _magic_ – all leaving our shores and going abroad, enriching other countries, strengthening them, advancing _them_ while Britain is left in its own bubble. _Splendid Isolation_ was a great idea when mundane Britain ran a global empire – for a small nation of a couple of hundred thousand magicals it's a death knell."

"You will never get me to agree, James," Jugson shook his head.

"I know," the Minister conceded, "but so long as the Independents agree, we can continue to push our agenda and make First-gens think there is a future for this country. Without it… eventually our country will die – either from inside or out."

"What do you mean?" Jugson's eyes narrowed.

"As I say, people are taking their ideas and talents abroad all the time. Other countries are advancing faster than we are. Eventually someone would decide we're weak enough to be worth invading."

"Never!"

James looked at his guest; he spoke very slowly and deliberately. "Tell that to the deposed leaders of Romania, Transylvania or Poland. It would take longer for them to overthrow us, sure, but no country is immune to its enemies if they are determined, numerous and advanced enough."

The visitor shook his head and stood, sensing the discussion wouldn't lead to any common ground being found. "I still don't believe it, Minister. As I say, you need to be careful; you're playing a dangerous game."

"Why do you care?" James smiled. "Surely the more dangerous my game becomes, the better _your_ chances of winning are."

Jugson reached the door; he looked back with a dangerous smile. "I want there to be a country _left_ when I win," was his parting shot.

 _Sofia Airport,_

 _Magical Annex,_

 _Sofia, Bulgaria_

 _Friday, 12_ _th_ _December 2003_

"British?" The attendant handled the two men's VIP passports suspiciously (they had yet to surrender them following their expulsion from the Wizengamot). "What business does the British Ministry have in our country?"

"We seek an audience with your Minister; I believe he will want to hear what I have to say," Black stated smoothly.

Eyes fixed on the two men, the attendant raised his wand and fired a few green sparks into the air; a man in Bulgarian Aurors robes appeared at his side and the two began conversing in rapid Bulgarian.

"My colleague tells me you have a message for our Minister?" the newcomer spoke in heavily accented English.

"That's correct," Black confirmed.

"Well? What is it?"

Regulus hesitated, not wanting to give the information to an underling; he wanted (and thought he _deserved_ ) to be meeting the big cheese. "It concerns the abduction of several young Veela girls from your cells," he disclosed.

The two Bulgarians exchanged looks before the newcomer spoke simply. "Come with me," he turned, expecting them to follow him.

"Why are we here?" Macnair asked in a low voice. "Why not go straight to the Emperor?"

" _This_ is our way in," Black explained. "Malfoy laid the groundwork, we already have an _in_ in Bulgaria. _Plus_ , those creatures _came_ from Bulgaria; information on them will help ingratiate us with Oblansk, and through him we can start to deal with Karkaroff from a stronger position."

Macnair looked doubtful; now that not only was their faction not in government but they were no longer even in the governing chamber, he suspected that their position would not be regarded as 'strong' no matter what they did.

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Bulgarian Ministry of Magic_

It took a couple of hours of questions and discussions with various people before Black and Macnair were granted an appointment, and a further hour before they actually met Minister Oblansk. In that time Black remained tight-lipped, saying his information was for the Minister's ears only; despite annoying everyone he spoke to, he stuck to his position and was finally rewarded with entry to the plush office.

"Mister Black," Oblansk gestured to a seat. "Walden, good to see you again. Now," he continued when the two men sat, "I understand you have news about my missing Veelas?"

"Indeed, Minister," Regulus nodded, putting on his most sycophantic tones. "I can confirm for you that the girls who were stolen from your Ministry were taken by a taskforce of British Aurors."

"I already suspected that," Oblansk replied evenly. "I trust that you have _proof_?"

"I can tell you exactly how it was done," Black retorted, and took the Bulgarian through the mission to the best of his knowledge; Oblansk took careful and copious notes as Black spoke.

"Why are you telling me this? What's in it for you?" the Minister asked finally, keeping his tone and facial expressions calm.

"When you air your _legitimate_ grievance with our government – _and_ threaten some much-deserved reprisals of course – it will make trouble for the incumbent Minister," Black explained. "Once _that_ happens, Potter's position will have become untenable: when _he_ goes we will be replaced by a Minister more… in line with you and our other friends in the East; this, I'm sure, will improve relations between us and bring in a new alliance between ourselves and you – leaving behind the backward-thinking countries the fool currently has us allied to."

"I would have to put it to Karkaroff," Oblansk cautioned. "Anything else?"

"Yes," Black smiled. "A promise that the day I take over as Minister I will recall Potter's spawn from the creatures' haven and hand him over to you to be tried for his crimes against your Aurors."

Oblansk's smile mirrored his at this. " _That_ would certainly be something that helped improve relations between us, Mr Black," he declared.

When his guests left, Oblansk hurried to contact both the Emperor and his man in the ICW.

 _ICW,_

 _Geneva, Switzerland_

 _Monday, 15_ _th_ _December 2003_

"If there is no other business?" Dumbledore's tone was hopeful as he peered around the slumbering chamber before he hurriedly banged down his gavel, rousing some of the snoozing membership, many of whom looked around in bewilderment as if trying to remember where they were and why they were there. "This term's gathering of the ICW is officially at an end; I wish you all a pleasant break and will see you in the New Year," he declared, though he privately wondered how many of the more veteran wizards would still be around after Christmas.

"Albus," Minkov, the Bulgarian representative, sidled over to him as he was gathering up the scrolls of parchment that he, as Supreme Mugwump, held. Legend had it that it contained the constitution of the ICW but in truth he had no idea what was in them; they'd been passed from predecessor to successor for centuries and spent most of the time residing in the Supreme Mugwump's office gathering dust, unless the chamber was meeting. Like, he suspected, the bulk of his predecessors he'd never actually unravelled them; for all he knew it was a millennium-old shopping list, he'd thought more than once in amusement.

"Yes, my friend?" Dumbledore turned to him.

"Bad business, Albus, very bad," he shook his head. "Two members of your government came to Bulgaria late last week and admitted to our Minister that _your forces_ were behind the abduction of those children a few weeks ago. My government _has_ to respond, you know."

"Ah, my dear Aleksandar, I trust you can supply _proof_ of these claims?"

"The gentlemen's names were…" he consulted the documents he had with him, "Macnair and Black."

"Ah," Dumbledore forestalled any further comment, "are you aware that _neither_ of those men are a part of our government anymore? They lost that right over their involvement in some of our government's secrets finding their way into _your_ government's hands. I also note that our stolen property was never returned."

Minkov glowered; he'd expected Dumbledore to be a lot more receptive to the approach (not appreciating that most of his ambivalence to Bulgaria's earlier complaint came as a result of his dislike of James Potter and that the Minister's son being implicated in the complaint). "Was there a formal request?" he bristled.

"There was indeed," Albus confirmed. "I daresay it got lost somewhere in your bureaucratic workings?" His tone bordered on mocking; this wasn't going the way Minkov was expecting at all.

"Be that as it may," he groused, "they stated that British Aurors were responsible for the abduction of these girls. I warn you that, through me, my government _will_ promise reprisals if nothing is done about their return by the time we reconvene. You know, Albus, that my country is part of a powerful alliance these days."

"I would advise against threatening me or my country," Dumbledore countered; Minkov's fury ratcheted a further notch. The veteran wizard continued, "Their evidence is unreliable and would never satisfy _this_ body, never mind our own government. They were expelled from their positions, as I said, and ran straight to Bulgaria. It would be easy to portray them as bitter and vengeful agitators at the very least. No," he shook his head, "I believe that the prime suspects remain those rogue Irish magicals who entered your lands that day; you will need _far_ more evidence to persuade anyone to the contrary – other than the Irish themselves, of course – and they maintain that neither the girls nor the mages ever returned to Ireland."

"This is unacceptable, Albus," he threatened. "Rest assured my country will continue its investigations and once we have _proof_ that your government was involved… there will be repercussions, especially in the light of your continued refusal to hand Harry Potter over to us." He turned to leave before looking back. "Merry Christmas," he spat.

"And to you," Albus replied serenely at the retreating Bulgarian's back. The aged wizard returned to his office, locked it down and flooed to the British Ministry to warn the Minister of the latest developments.

 _Royal Office,_

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

"Enter!" Fleur barked from behind her paperwork as the guards knocked on her office door. The women opened the doors and escorted Ambassador Potter into the room.

"Ah, Ambassador," she greeted him with a smile, getting up from behind her desk, grateful for an excuse for a break from the work of running the small nation; with a wave of her hand she dismissed the guards who left with a bow, closing the door behind them. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company 'Arry?" she asked once they were alone.

"I merely wanted to say goodbye and to wish you a Merry Christmas Fleur," he replied; the blonde forced herself to suppress a smile at his use of her given name rather than her title.

"So you are leaving today for some time?" she asked; he nodded.

"I will be returning after the New Year, probably on the 4th," he revealed.

"It is good that you can safely visit your home again," she smiled. "I take it you are not travelling alone," she observed, knowing that Danielle had mentioned the plan for them to attend a Quidditch game that weekend.

"No, Your Majesty," his smile broadened. "Danielle will be accompanying me this weekend."

"We agreed that she may stay as long as she wishes; I expect she will be with you for the whole of the holiday?"

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise; while they had discussed Danielle spending Christmas in Godric's Hollow he hadn't realised that she was going to be there for the whole period. Seeing his surprise Fleur continued,

"I have granted her permission to leave the court until the New Year. I suspect she will take the opportunity," she added with a knowing grin.

The more Harry thought about it, the more appealing it sounds. "I hope so," he replied with a grin of his own.

"Enjoy your break, Ambassador," she declared; after a moment's hesitation she kissed both his cheeks before he left the room. She wrinkled her nose as he left, silently ruing his charmed robes and their effect of dampening her allure.

 _Ambassador's Suite_

Danielle was waiting for him outside his quarters with a small trunk. "Ready to go?" he asked; she nodded. "Everything you need for three weeks away?" She nodded again, though her look was slightly querying. "The Queen told me," he explained, "said you had her permission to be away for the whole period."

"Ah, and I was hoping to surprise you," she mock-lamented. "I hope it is not a problem?"

He shook his head vehemently before taking her right hand in his left and, after locked the outer door to his rooms, he picked up a small bag of essentials that he wanted to take home with him and led her into the fireplace. With a call of 'Godric's Hollow' the two disappeared.

 _16 Peverell Way,_

 _Godric's Hollow, United Kingdom_

"Harry!" Lily's cry greeted the couple as they appeared in the kitchen. The redhead flung herself on her son, engulfing him in a hug while Danielle squirmed her way past them to get a bit of room. This put her face to face with the British Minister for Magic, who greeted her warmly.

"Danielle, lovely to see you again," he spoke in faltering French, having tried to learn a little so he could at least attempt to converse with his son's latest belle.

She thanked him, furnishing him with a radiant smile as he took her hand and gently kissed the back of it. No sooner had James let go of her hand then his wife, having finished welcoming Harry back, pulled the blonde into a hug and welcomed her into their home while James turned to Harry to greet his son.

"Dinner will be in about half an hour," Lily told them as Harry levitated their bags and the new arrivals followed them towards his room.

 _Friday, 19_ _th_ _December 2003_

"You seem happy this morning," Danielle observed as she awoke to Harry nuzzling at her neck; his hand cupped her breast, fingers toying with the nipple. She noticed that he wore underwear so surmised that he had got out of bed while she was still asleep; a steaming mug of tea on her bedside table, and another on his, seemed to confirm it.

"I wake up next to you each morning, what's not to be happy about?" he enthused before continuing his assault on her neck. She squirmed with pleasure and let him continue for a little while before trying again.

"You _have_ been happy to be home, but you are _definitely_ happier this morning."

"Ok," he sighed. "You're right, my baby sisters are coming home from school today; it's going to be nice to see them again."

"Yes, you mentioned a school train?" She frowned, wrinkling her nose in a way he found adorable. "They will be using that?"

"No," he shook his head. "Not for this trip. They're in their last year so they'll _probably_ take it in June for nostalgia's sake – most do for their last ever trip from the school – but these days everyone either floos or some even apparate if they're old enough, though you can't apparate directly into the Minister's house so that option is out," he added with a small snigger.

"It would be like apparating into the Queen's office," she agreed with a nod. "So nobody uses this train now?"

"The new First year do every September; it's something of a tradition and it gives them a chance to meet their classmates without being too intimidated by all the older kids being there. The prefects are _expected_ to," he grinned, knowing that many of them were rather remiss in that duty after the initial trip on 1st September when it was absolutely compulsory (as some had found to their cost when they lost their badge on day 1), "to keep an eye on things and look after the new kids and a lot of the First generation kids do too because their houses can't be connected to the floo system and they've no other options until they're old enough to apparate. So there will be a fair few on the train but those who can avoid spending all day travelling the country will do so."

Danielle nodded, wondering why on earth _any_ school would send all its kids from one end of the country to the other when it was a safe bet that the vast majority lived somewhere in between the two stations.

* * *

Shortly after they'd finished breakfast the fireplace glowed green before the two identical girls leapt out of it into the kitchen.

"Hi Harry," they announced in unison as their big brother shot to his feet and pulled them into a three-way hug.

"Did you miss us?" Heather asked as they stepped apart; Rose, meanwhile, eyed the tall blonde, hanging back a couple of steps from the siblings.

"You must be Danielle," she addressed the Veela in French. "I'm Rose, Harry's better-looking sister; it's a pleasure to meet you," she offered a hand and Danielle shook it. Heather rolled her eyes at both her twin's words and the formality behind them.

"I'm Heather, it's great to finally put a face to the name, Harry's told us _so_ much about you," she enthused, also in perfect French, and pulling the surprised blonde into a hug. "Don't worry, it was _all_ good though, to tell you the truth, he didn't do you justice," she added conspiratorially, causing the Veela to laugh and her boyfriend to look a little awkward.

"So…" he called loudly, putting a momentary stop to the girls' giggling, "you two should take your stuff up to your room while I floo mum and dad to let them know you're here."

"Yes sir," they mock-saluted in unison, causing Danielle to laugh again, before levitating their belongings upstairs, following on behind and still chuckling.

"I don't know why I was looking forward to seeing them so much," he grumbled as he sat down at the table again; a still-grinning Danielle slipped onto his knee and wrapped her arms around him.

 _Imps Stadium,_

 _Ilkley Moor, West Yorkshire_

 _Saturday, 20_ _th_ _December 2003_

The crowd gasped as the seeker plunged into a dive; her counterpart, the visiting Halifax Hornets' seeker, followed about half a second behind, urging his broom on as fast as he could. The two were evenly matched for speed, Jen's head start, though, was being swallowed up by the other's better angle. It turned out to be immaterial as a bludger whistled through the air, clipping the brunette's shoulder and causing her to veer into her rival, knocking them both off course to the groans of the crowd. As Jen fought for control of her broom again she scanned in vain for a flash of gold; the snitch had gone. With a rueful shake of her head she rose back to her position high above the rest of the play, as did the Hornets' seeker. While he held fast to his broomstick with both hands, Jen absently rubbed her shoulder, feeling a little ache despite her armour bearing the brunt of the glancing blow.

"It is such a violent game!" a wide-eyed Danielle exclaimed from her position in the stands, nestled against Harry's side (she had borrowed and resized some heavier clothing – jeans, a thick jumper, a heavy coat, a woolly hat and thick, woollen socks – from Harry's sisters as her limited wardrobe was not really suited for Yorkshire in December). On his other side sat Neville, who wore a look of mild concern at the blow his girlfriend had taken. The three were flanked by Harry's twin sisters; while not huge Quidditch fans they were eager to spend time with their big brothers (in which they included Neville) over the holidays, and also get to know their girlfriends.

"She'll be ok," Harry replied; Neville nodded gratefully. While Harry was clearly responding to Danielle (as he spoke in French) Neville drew some comfort from his words, knowing Harry had received more than his fair share of hits from bludgers over his time at school.

Danielle's appearance in the crowd certainly turned plenty of heads; she was a little nervous about the number of gawping males who stared at her (not something that she would have experienced in the all-female-Veela confines of the chateau) while a number of the witches in attendance eyed her with envious suspicion (the resized clothes may have had a little to do with it as she had ensured that everything showed every curve, much to Harry's delight, although some of them _were_ now hidden under outer layers). It was an eye-opening experience for her; despite having visited Britain as part of the Royal Entourage she hadn't encountered too many ordinary magicals. She made up her mind that she wouldn't be leaving Harry's side in public for the duration of her visit.

The Hornets' beater who'd sent the bludger into Jen looked to have done his job; she was a fraction slow in spotting the snitch when it next made an appearance and her opponent took full advantage in opening up a lead in the race to snag it. The tiny golden ball was fluttering close to where the group were sitting; Harry pointed it out to Danielle (who, like the others, was struggling to locate it, not having trained themselves to do so the way Harry had) and there was another audible groan from the home fans as they saw the seekers rushing towards them with Jen clearly second in the race.

"Maybe I should send some of my allure towards him?" Danielle suggested mischievously, causing Neville, Heather and Rose to burst out laughing (much to the confusion of their neighbours). She wouldn't, of course, given that she was already rather nervous of the other people in the stands and their reactions to her. Unlike the others, though, Harry looked mildly scandalised at the proposal.

"That's _really_ not allowed," he replied strenuously. "It's the reason, the _only_ reason Veelas are actually _banned_ from playing Quidditch in England. The ban's been in place globally for centuries," he explained as the blonde turned inquisitively towards him. "Someone using it from the stands? I think that gets you a lifetime stadium ban and _could_ see the team penalised if they're found to be culpable in any way."

"It was just a thought," she shrugged, redoubling the girls' giggles while she pulled herself closer into his side. They were the only ones to be laughing, though, as the snitch was seized handing the victory to the Hornets, keeping the visitors' title hopes well on track while putting a major dent in the Imps' own. Jen was close enough to her friends to be able to throw an apologetic look in Neville's direction (she had been desperate to win today with everyone here to watch her play) before steering her broom dejectedly to the ground. As the Hornets' celebratory huddle broke she shook hands with each of them in turn, as did her teammates, before the Imps trudged back to the dressing room. The Hornets, meanwhile, remounted their brooms and flew over to a knot of their supporters to carry on celebrating with them.

"Sorry about that, it wasn't the result we wanted with you all here," Jen declared miserably as she joined them in the players' bar of the club house after she had showered and changed. The barman shared a glance with her before plonking a pint on the bar in front of her; she nodded her thanks and took a draught. Harry and Neville also drank beer though Danielle and the twins had butterbeers (Danielle did sample her boyfriend's beer but quickly screwed up her face at the bitter taste and decided that particular beverage wasn't for her).

Her boyfriend silenced her with a kiss. "It wasn't your fault; the beater did his job and distracted you enough to give his guy the advantage. Are you ok?" He gently rubbed her shoulder and she smiled at his touch.

"There was a small bruise but the medic fixed it up, put some paste on it." She shrugged the shoulder. "Good as new now."

The barman leaned over to Harry; seeing him, Harry bent towards him. "I've seen some people looking over towards you guys – probably to your blonde friend," he nodded at Danielle. "There won't be any trouble in here," he stated determinedly, his voice still low, "but if you want you can floo from behind the bar rather than using the public one or the apparition point."

"Thanks," Harry muttered back. "I'd seen her getting some attention during the game. I _know_ she can look after herself," he smiled at the memory of the Veela transformation and the fireballs that accompanied it, "but we'll take you up on your offer when we're done. Thank you." The bartender nodded.

"What is it?" Neville asked, leaning towards his friend; Harry beckoned to Danielle and replayed the conversation in French.

Danielle shivered. "I saw some of the looks," she revealed, "and they did make me feel uncomfortable. Don't worry, though, I will stay close to you both for the day. I would prefer not to cause an incident if one can be avoided," she added with a small grin.

While the rest of the evening passed peacefully, between the barman's caution and the Imps' loss there was something of a cloud hanging over the group. Once the clientele of the bar began to dissipate Neville turned to his girl.

"How long do you want to stay?" he asked; she smiled gratefully.

"I'm good to go whenever," she disclosed; turning to the Potters she gave a weary smile. "Sorry guys but I'm never too sociable after a loss; I prefer to just go home and mope."

"That's ok," Harry assured her, "I won't feel comfortable until we get Danielle safely home."

"You're coming to ours for Boxing Day, right?" Neville asked; Harry nodded.

"The whole gang," he gestured to the three girls with him.

"Great, I'll see you then if not before."

They said their goodbyes and Neville and Jen left the bar to apparate back to her house. Harry, meanwhile, shepherded Danielle and his sisters behind the bar to floo home.


	26. Chapter 26

**A very Merry Christmas to everyone who has been enjoying this story; I hope to be in a position to update more frequently in the New Year. PD**

Chapter 26

 _Throne Room,_

 _Imperial Palace(?),_

 _Moscow_

 _Monday, 22_ _nd_ _December 2003_

"Muggles?" Oblansk was incensed; it was only the identity of the person he was addressing that kept any semblance of civility on his tongue. "You expect… _our_ ," he caught himself in time, "people to travel as _muggles_?"

"I do indeed, Oblansk," Emperor Karkaroff replied evenly. "You see, it has come to my attention, via Igor and some of the half-bloods of Durmstrang and _not_ yourself I might add," Oblansk shrank under his gaze, "that as of the start of next year _all_ muggles in Bulgaria and Romania can travel to France, Britain or Germany and live there. With them entering the country legally and by muggle means – so without drawing the attention of magical authorities in those countries – they are then in position to mount an insurgency when we give the word."

"And until then?"

"Until then they can keep a low profile in the muggle world," the Emperor answered. "It's why we will use half-bloods to begin with, they can blend better into that world. Once they're settled we can have Purebloods moving over with them and ready our taskforce to strike."

"What is our first target?"

Karkaroff paused, considering it. "London," he replied with a smile. "We _know_ that they were involved in taking the creatures from us in Bulgaria and that we have sympathisers in their government already; that and their refusal to hand over the Ambassador's murdering son makes them a logical first target and the sympathisers will make the transition more orderly once we do overthrow Potter. From there we will have the rest of Europe in a pincer."

"I'm sure there will be plenty of volunteers," Oblansk carped, "with our nation playing England in Quidditch next month."

"If they go then they must keep a low profile," the Emperor warned. "It would not do to give them any inkling of our plans ahead of time. Make the preparations."

His lackeys nodded, Oblansk albeit reluctantly, and left to plan the invasion of Western Europe.

 _16 Peverell Road,_

 _Godric's Hollow, United Kingdom_

 _Thursday, 25_ _th_ _December 2003_

Christmas morning was always a jovial affair in the Potter household. Heather and Rose, as usual, were the first to wake, making enough noise to raise the dead as they excitedly and impatiently waited by the tree for the rest of the family to surface.

Danielle sat up in bed, looking around her in a wide-eyed state of near panic, having been so rudely awoken from her pleasant slumbers.

"I did warn you," Harry mumbled sleepily, raising his head a fraction. "The twins are always like this, every year." He yawned. "I don't think they'll ever grow up when it comes to Christmas morning."

"It is no longer a festival for us," the Veela commented with a hint of sadness, settling back down in bed and snuggling into her lover. "The court stops work for the week," she continued, having to raise her voice a little as the twins' voices grew louder and even more excited, "but since we retreated from the wider world we haven't really celebrated the day. Perhaps the newcomers still do," she thought of those who had fled the Bulgarian exclave. "Maybe they – and their children," she thought on the girls who had been rescued by Neville and his group, "can bring back the excitement of the day. I hope so, I am enjoying seeing how you celebrate it." She peered over at Harry and saw that his eyes were closed. "Do you plan to go back to sleep?" she asked incredulously.

"Every year I try to wait them out," he said groggily. "One year I'll manage it." He was interrupted by a hammering on the door.

"Harry, Danielle, get up; it's CHRISTMAS!" an excited female voice cried.

"Clearly it will not be _this_ year," the blonde observed, mirth slipping into her voice as she woke up fully. "Come on," she poked his shoulder, "time to get up."

He sighed; now that Danielle was out of bed he knew she wouldn't let him go back to sleep. They dressed quickly before emerging from the room to the identical, grinning faces of Harry's siblings.

"Merry Christmas," the twins declared in unison.

"Merry Christmas," he returned, smiling and hugging his sisters.

"Joyeux Noël," they greeted Danielle, who returned the salutation with a smile before the girls dragged Harry downstairs, the Veela following with an amused shake of her head.

Lily and James, while looking tired themselves, were already in the living room clutching steaming mugs of tea when the youngsters arrived, adding their own Christmas greetings before the twins turned the family's attention to more important things – presents.

"Rose from Harry and Danielle," Heather handed a parcel to her twin before picking up a similarly wrapped one addressed to her. They retreated to the settee and began to rip apart the wrapping paper with a speed and ferocity that shocked their house guest.

"Are you _sure_ they have no Veela blood?" she asked Harry in a low, slightly awed whisper. "I normally only see that sort of frenzy when we are transformed."

Harry just sniggered; to him this was normal behaviour for the girls at Christmas or on their birthday.

"Cool, thanks," Hogwarts' Head Girl smiled at her brother and his girlfriend as she held up a set of the pale blue robes the women of the Veela castle wore. Rose picked up her wand and with a mischievous smile turned her sister's hair blonde.

"You could pass for one of us now," Danielle grinned; Heather checked her reflection before, with a mock frown, she turned her twin's hair midnight blue.

"Girls," Lily spoke sharply, suppressing the urge to just sigh at her daughters as she knew that if she didn't put a stop to it then the prank war would last at least for the whole day; their father was already laughing at his daughters' antics and she knew the former Marauder would be of no use in enforcing order on them. With a pout, Rose restored Heather's hair to its natural colour before her sister returned the favour.

"Here, Harry," they said in unison, smiling as they handed him his present. He unwrapped it with a hint of surprise and gave the girls a questioning look.

"I _know_ you got one a couple of years ago," Heather said, gesturing to the Gameboy Advance box he was holding.

"But we've improved this one," Rose added with a grin.

"You see," Heather continued, taking the box from him and opening it, "this one doesn't need batteries as such." She showed him the back of the console where the batteries would usually go; there was a softly shimmering crystal wedged in there. "It took us ages to get the right material and right runes for it," she added, "but we think it's well worth the effort."

" You simply rest your wand on it," her twin took up, taking her own wand from her back pocket and resting the tip on the crystal; it immediately began to glow a little brighter, the brightness remaining when she removed her wand and stowed it back in her jeans.

"And hey presto," Heather laughed, shooting a smirk at her mother. "It runs as normal but the electronics are powered by magic."

"Fantastic!" Harry exclaimed. "Will these crystals power _anything_?"

The twins exchanged looks. "Uh, I'm not sure," Rose admitted, "we were just focussing on the Gameboy really."

"It could be revolutionary," Harry said, his excitement growing as he thought about what the twins had created; he looked from the girls to his parents. "Running non-magical appliances on magic rather than electricity."

"Yes," James admitted, though with a note of caution in his voice, "but it might be limited to smaller items like that. Imagine how much magic you'd suck up running a telly or a computer."

"True," Harry conceded with a trace of disappointment. "It might still be worth mentioning it to Luna or Hermione, see if they can mass produce the crystals?"

Heather spoke up. "We applied for a patent for it; dad's taught us well."

James laughed. "You girls will _definitely_ get a large payday if this sort of thing takes off." Their twin faces lit up even more excited than normal on Christmas morning. "The challenges are in mass production and having enough juice to power larger items."

"Maybe they could soak up ambient magic?" Lily postulated. "That would help, especially in an area like the Ministry where a lot of magic is always happening."

Her husband nodded. "I'll put our boffins onto it in January," he chuckled. Harry, seeing that Danielle looked completely lost at the excited, breathless conversation the Potters were having, filled her in on what was being discussed, and exactly what his sisters had given him.

"Is that even possible?" the surprised blonde asked.

"It was actually fairly simple, once we found the right material," Heather replied.

"If you think about it," Rose added, "we're always using magic to produce various different types of energy – _lumos_ for light, _Avis_ for sound; the reason _Aguamanti_ or other conjuring spells - like _Avis_ I guess," she shrugged, "are so tiring is that you're converting your magic into matter, which requires huge amounts of energy." The Veela nodded her comprehension.

"So all we're doing," her twin finished smoothly, "is converting magic to electrical energy and then letting the device do the rest."

"It is an incredible idea," Danielle enthused. "We obviously have no electricity in the castle so being able to use non-magical things… it could really help us with our move out of seclusion that the Queen wishes us to take."

"I'm glad you think that," Rose spoke up, grinning as she picked up another package, one that, while still wrapped, looked suspiciously similar in size to the one her brother held, "because this is for you. You can borrow some games from Harry," she added teasingly.

Once all the presents had been opened the household began to settle down. As midday approached the floo activated and, having received instant permission, Remus Lupin shot through to join the family for lunch, and to hand over gifts to the family. Gift-giving had always been something of a sore point for the werewolf, as it was only recently that he'd begun earning anything close to a decent wage (thanks to the intervention of his friend the Minister) so he'd always been reluctant to accept expensive gifts from his friends when his own couldn't match them in monetary value (and he could never bring himself to believe their protestations that the value didn't matter to them). Shortly after Lupin's arrival, Sirius also joined them, his arm adorned by a black-haired lady who looked perhaps a couple of years younger than him.

"Merry Christmas," James greeted the couple.

"Merry Christmas, James," Sirius replied. "I don't believe you've met Theresa?" he asked with a small grin, knowing full well that he hadn't introduced her to them; unlike many of his previous 'companions', he felt that this one _could_ be something special, so he'd held off on the introductions for a bit. "Theresa," he turned to them, "you probably recognise the Minister for Magic, James Potter. This is his wife Lily, their daughters Heather and Rosemary and their son Harry, Acting Ambassador to the Veela Nation. On Harry's arm is Danielle; she's a Veela." Theresa nodded, rather in awe of the illustrious company – still, she reasoned, her boyfriend was a member of the Wizengamot; she'd have to get used to meeting bigwigs.

"Everyone," Sirius continued, "this is Theresa Bell."

"Bell," Harry spoke up thoughtfully. "You'd be Katie's aunt?" he fished, the surname helping him to see the resemblance with his former Quidditch team mate.

"I am," she confirmed with a smile. "Harry Potter," she declared, "the best seeker that Katie ever played with."

" _Grow up_ ," he hissed as Heather failed to suppress a snigger, thankfully the exchange was ignored by the newcomer, though the seventh year had to turn her back a bit as her giggles intensified until she turned so far that she met her mother's disapproving eyes and quickly settled down.

* * *

Conversation was warm and plentiful around the table, particularly after Lily's excellent tomato soup had been consumed; the first awkward moment came when it was revealed to Danielle that Remus was a werewolf, and had also been made so welcome at the table in spite of this (Theresa, clearly already knew that her boyfriend's old friend suffered from lycanthropy). "We only know werewolves by story and reputation: there are no Veela werewolves," she explained, via Harry as an interpreter, "as our physiology rejects the infection. A bite has no lasting damage as our skin will also heal with no scars or blemishes."

"What about sons of Veelas? Are they also immune?" Remus asked, intrigued by the idea of a specie having immunity to his disease; Danielle frowned in thought, something that always drove Harry wild.

"I don't know," she admitted. "While there are a few descendants of Veelas living in the magical world, male offspring have been rejected by our nation for longer than I have been alive. After giving birth to a male they are left with their fathers and never seen again." Seeing the appalled looks from those who understood French, and the rest of the table once Harry relayed the message (bar the Ambassador himself who, of course, already knew this) she added defensively, "It's the way things are in the castle, a part of our culture and our separation."

"It would be interesting to know whether some sort of serum could be developed. I doubt it would help those of us who have lived with the disease for years but maybe it might reverse the infection for someone who was newly bitten," Remus spoke to break the awkward silence that Danielle's disclosure had caused; he turned to James. "Perhaps your Magical Research Department could look into it?"

"I'm not sure how easily you'd be able to get your hands on the raw material for it," Harry warned cautiously; the others nodded, not expecting Veelas to queue up to donate blood for experimentation; the _Gemino_ charm was also known not to work on body parts or fluids, hence the need for artificial eyes and legs such as those owned by an infamous ex-Auror.

With lunch concluded, James began helping his wife clear things away (she insisted on washing dishes by hand, or using the dishwasher, rather than by magical means; on some level she still distrusted magic to do the job properly without breaking anything – something she blamed on watching _Fantasia_ too often as a child).

"It never ceases amazes me," Lily shook her head, "the part nominative predetermination plays in the wizarding world. Remus is a werewolf – Romulus and Remus were _raised_ by wolves, Lupin of course is close to _lupine_. Sirius – the dog star – is a dog animagus. Harry's ex's dad, Xenophilius Lovegood – certainly loves the strange…"

James chuckled. "That's definitely true. A shame it didn't work out with him and Luna, though Danielle is a nice girl as well," he conceded. He turned back to his wife and smiled. "And you say Divination is a woolly discipline."

Lily giggled before hitting him with a tea towel; he responded by splashing water at her and the laughter could soon be heard throughout the house, causing Rose to groan and bury her face in her hands at the embarrassment that was her parents.

 _The Burrow,_

 _Ottery St Catchpole, Devon_

"It's good that you're home for a little while, especially over Christmas; are you all set for the game next week, Charlie?" the second eldest Weasley was asked by his father; he nodded.

"Yes, while the domestic-based players are still with their clubs I've been able to just do my own thing because we have the winter break. Fortunately Puddlesmere United were happy to let me use their facilities."

"I'm not surprised," Bill commented. "Everyone wants to see England finally make it to the World Cup, so of course they're going to let our star seeker train with them." Charlie blushed a little at his older brother's praise.

"They probably want to be at the front of the queue to sign you when you come back to England," Ginny added a little more cynically; Charlie shook his head, knowing that he had no interest in returning to the country on a permanent basis, much to his mother's disappointment. He'd never taken much interest in politics but knew enough about what had happened in his adopted country to be well aware that the Empire had imposed a puppet government in Transylvania; his hope was that they wouldn't expel him for being British as he loved being so close to the dragon reserve in Romania. He knew he could play for almost any team in Europe so he'd have no problem getting a job in Italy or Germany if it came to it, but he was very happy where he was – particularly his popularity with the local single, young witches.

It wasn't just Charlie's rare appearance at The Burrow that made it an extra special Christmas for the family; indeed, for the first time in a few years, the entire Weasley clan was present for dinner. It was not, however, quite the celebration that Molly had envisaged when she began planning for Christmas dinner.

"As well as Christmas, we were supposed to be celebrating your father getting his promotion but he's been passed over _again_ ," she lamented between courses; Arthur had his head down, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. "I just don't understand it; it's _his turn_ for goodness sake." She glanced to her two youngest children, both sat at the far end of the table with their heads down, knowing where this was going from the matriarch's previous rants on the subject. "Perhaps recent events counted against you, Arthur," she turned to her husband. "I'm sure it will happen next time." Ron and Ginny flinched at her words, knowing what their mother _meant_ even if she hadn't quite come out and _said_ it.

Percy could take no more of his parents' delusion; he decided it was time for a few home truths. "Mother," he began irritably, "how long has dad been in the Misuse of Non-Magical Artefacts Office?"

"Twenty-three years," his father answered for her. "The last few of them have been spent getting passed over for promotion to become its head whenever the current leader moves on to something more attractive," he finished bitterly.

"Have you stopped to wonder why?" Crouch's assistant asked, impatience evident in his voice.

"Explain, young man," his mother demanded dangerously, "and drop that tone when you do."

"Very well," Percy sighed. "Who was Minister for Magic when dad joined the Ministry?"

"Crouch had just got the job," Arthur replied.

"And who is his protégé?"

"Minister Potter."

"Exactly. Mr Crouch groomed Minister Potter to one day take over from him; we got the seamless transition between them when Minister Potter took over the leadership of their group and he has been continuing Mr Crouch's policies – and even expanding on them in some areas. Now," he persisted as Molly opened her mouth, "what is the blood status of the Minister's wife?"

"She's muggle-born," Arthur supplied; it was common knowledge after all.

"Precisely," Percy concurred, though he cringed slightly at the terminology that the past and present Minister were attempting to phase out. "Mr Crouch had been preparing a Pureblood with a First-generation wife to succeed him. I know they've kept company socially for many years too. As a result, Mr Crouch, a wizard from an ancient Pureblood family, is now fully at ease not only in a non-magical home but even in the wider non-magical world, as is his wife." His parents looked shocked at this so he tried to explain, "I've never been there myself but I understand that the Potter home is a blend of magical and non-magical; I know Mr Crouch has also become a big fan of television through his friendship with the Potters, going so far as to have one installed in his own home."

"Really?" Arthur was fascinated and sought clarification. "A vellytision you say? Running on eckeltricity?" he asked excitedly.

Percy winced again; he rested his head on the table and shook it, much to the amusement of his twin brothers. After a few moments he raised his head and looked his mother in the eye. "And you're still wondering why dad's been passed over for promotion? Listen to him! He wants to run the office and has no idea what any of the stuff involved is even _called_ , never mind how it works! What makes you think that is something desirable in the head of his department?" His parents were staring at him, reeling from his words so Percy pressed on. "Look, more and more First-generations are working in the Ministry, thanks to the quota system. Yes, there's still the _protegoed_ ceiling whether we like it or not and yes, everybody is well aware of it but one or two do make it through the ranks – Granger, for example," he turned to the twins, "since yours is, frankly, a department the Wizengamot don't care about since it doesn't cost much money."

Fred nodded. "That's why Luna's there as well; there's not the interference – I mean oversight – from the Wizengamot that the other departments get."

"Right," Percy agreed with an involuntary grin at his brother's assessment; he then turned back to his parents. "Which department do you think will be _next_ to get a First-generation as its head? Could it be the one that _deals_ with the non-magic world on a daily basis? Face it dad, if you _ever_ want to get promoted then you need to actually _learn_ about that world, what everything is called, how it all works and what it does. Otherwise, before long, a young First-gen will become your boss, they won't be able to become head anywhere else – the Wizengamot won't allow it for _many_ years yet – and you'll be trapped in what's become a dead-end job."

"They shouldn't be there anyway," Ron spoke up petulantly, still smarting about his own lack of opportunities in the Wizarding world. "They've got their own world; they can go back to that and leave these jobs for the rest of us. Like Quidditch, what do they know about that? It's _our_ game, not one for Mudbloods who –"

The _SLAP_ that followed reverberated around the kitchen for a good few seconds; a horrified Ron looked at his mother and was thankful that he could see over her shoulder that his hand on the family clock remained pointing at _home_ rather than _mortal peril_. She certainly _looked_ angry enough to kill him on the spot.

"There will not be language like that used in this house, Ronald Weasley; we taught you better than that."

Ron's sense of self-preservation kicked on; he smartly chose to remain silent while his whole face burned red (not just the cheek that had been slapped). Bill came to the rescue, keeping the subject on Quidditch but moving to a less contentious discussion.

"What do you think of our chances, Charlie? We should have the better Chasers but really it's going to come down to you or Krum I think."

"So no pressure," George added with a smirk; his brother just shook his head.

 _Longbottom Home,_

 _The Stray, York  
_

 _26_ _th_ _December 2003_

As was now traditional, the Potter and Longbottom families gathered together to celebrate the season; Crouch had been invited but had declined due to his wife's health (she had urged him to go, saying Winky, their house elf, could look after her and also contact him in the event of an emergency but he'd decided to stay with her this year).

The day lacked the chaotic energy of Christmas itself and, as the younger members of the families had seen each other recently, things were quieter than usual. The more relaxed atmosphere (particularly after lunch and away from the watchful gaze of Neville's intimidating grandmother) gave them a chance to talk about the important issues of the day, the one occupying the thoughts of nearly every English witch or wizard at this time – the England v Bulgaria Quidditch match.

"You'll be here for the game surely?" Jen asked, disbelief in her tone that Harry might not be attending.

"I can't," he shook his head. "I'm still something of a fugitive as far as Bulgaria are concerned; if I was spotted there it could kick off a major diplomatic incident."

"The biggest international Quidditch game in years and you're just going to miss it?" she repeated in amazement; Harry shrugged.

"I don't have a choice. I'll be rooting for us, of course; you'll have to fill me in on what happened later on."

"Wear your Invisibility Cloak," Heather suggested, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world; while she and her sister had little interest in the sport they knew that many from Hogwarts _were_ planning to attend (including the Headmistress, who had decided to make the weekend an extra Hogsmeade weekend so anyone with a ticket – which included McGonagall herself – could leave the school without any problems).

"No good," Harry shook his head regretfully, "too much of a chance that somebody walks into me, especially with it being a sell-out. Even if I was in the Top Box: that's where the Bulgarian representatives will be so it's too big of a risk."

"How about polyjuice?" his other sister suggested innocently, causing Jen to chuckle and even Harry managed a grin at the idea as he shot a glance at Neville, who was trying to keep a straight face.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," the Auror managed before he smiled.

 _12 Grimmauld Place,_

 _London_

 _Thursday, 1_ _st_ _January 2004_

"Mr Black!" The floo call surprised Regulus, who was sitting in his study sipping an exquisite Brandy while Kreacher, his devoted house elf, at his insistence sat nearby. Black handed his glass to the elf, who cradled it like it was a treasure of purest gold, and moved over to the fire, pulling up a chair and allowing the floo call to be connected.

"Minister Oblansk," he recognised the voice and awaited the appearance of the Bulgarian's head, "a Happy New Year to you. What can I do for you today?"

"And a Happy New Year to you Mr Black," the Minister returned as he appeared in the fire. "As for what you can do," he continued, "it recently came to our attention that your country's muggle government has decided to throw open its doors to all of our Bulgarian citizens." Black raised his eyebrows; as he had nothing to do with the non-magical world he was unaware of this development. "As a result," Oblansk pressed on, "we will be sending Bulgarian and Romanian half-bloods, to begin with, into Britain in order to prepare for an attack on the British Ministry of Magic and Wizengamot. Once we have ousted the current leadership, you will be appointed Minister in their place."

"I see," Black commented slowly; he felt more than a little uncomfortable at the thought of his friends in Wizengamot being attacked, before reminding himself that they're _not_ friends, that they cut him loose after the vote to remove him from his seat. While he was honest enough to admit that he'd like to see them survive and be part of the new government, he quickly came to realise that he didn't actually care too much if they don't, just so long as he finds himself in charge of Britain – albeit he recognised that it _would_ now be with Eastern Europe pulling the strings. Unlike his views of a few short weeks ago, this would be better than nothing for him.

"Mr Black," Oblansk spoke again, "we would like you to make welcome some of these people when they arrive in Britain, just for a few days or weeks – long enough for them to find homes and work and to blend in with muggle Britain. Then we'll be able to send more people – and eventually Purebloods – as we begin to build up our forces."

"I see," Regulus said again, rather displeased at the thought of allowing half-bloods into his ancestral home, even given the reasoning behind them being used and even after receiving assurances from Oblansk that their loyalty to the plan is not in doubt. "When will they be arriving?" he asked.

"Very soon. As I said they are travelling legally as muggles and will be attending the Quidditch game between our countries; they wanted to be in place before then," he added with a smile.

"I will be attending that myself," Black nodded. "I trust I will see you there Minister?"

"No," Oblansk frowned. "With Potter still refusing to surrender his son, it was felt that a protest was needed. My Deputy will attend but I will be boycotting the game."

Regulus shrugged, feeling that it was a rather silly protest when Oblansk himself was the only one to lose out as a result; he kept this to himself though, choosing to go over the finer points of the plan instead with the Bulgarian.

"Well, Kreacher," he said once the Minister ended the call, "it looks like the unused rooms need to be tidied; we will be having company soon."

"Of course Master," the elf spoke enthusiastically, "it shall be done," and he disappeared with a crack.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

 _16 Peverell Road,_

 _Godric's Hollow_

 _Friday, 2_ _nd_ _January 2004_

"You're back in the office today?" Harry asked in surprise as his parents, sporting their dress robes, walked into the living room.

"Didn't we say that?" James asked in surprise; his son shook his head. "Oh, well we are," he informed them with a smile before giving Harry and his girlfriend a goodbye hug.

"Most people will still be off, since it's Friday, so with you and the girls all heading back today we thought we might as well go in; it's a chance to get some things done while it's quiet," Lily added.

"Will you be back before the girls have to leave?" Harry asked; his mother shook her head.

"We'll be at the Ministry all day so we need you to see them off if that's ok."

"No problem," he nodded. "We'll let them go then head back to the castle once they're at Hogwarts."

Lily nodded, blinking a couple of tears away at the thought of her children all leaving again after being home for Christmas. "It's a shame you both have to go back today as well," she observed, "do you know _why_ the Queen summoned you back today rather than over the weekend as you'd planned?"

Her son shook his head. "We just got the call from her yesterday, no explanation, just a request that we return today. It's a pity but what can you do?" he shrugged.

"Do you have any other plans for today, Harry?" she asked.

"Yes, we're going to visit Dudley," he informed them.

"Give him our best," his mum urged; she hugged him and Danielle before following her husband into the fireplace.

"Girls?" Harry called once the Potter parents had gone to the Ministry; identical faces appeared in the doorway. "Danielle and I are going to visit Dudley. We'll be back in time to say goodbye before you have to floo to Hogwarts ."

"Ok," Rose wrinkled her nose in distaste; neither girl had any intention of accompanying their big brother to Little Whinging. "Will you be talking to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia?"

"Not if I can help it," he admitted.

"How will you avoid having to do so?" Heather asked curiously.

"I have an idea," Harry smiled; he took Danielle's hand and they vanished.

 _4 Privet Drive,_

 _Little Whinging,_

 _Surrey_

The _crack_ was barely audible and nobody in the suburban neighbourhood thought anything of it; in fact very few would have heard it over the noise of their televisions. That the couple appeared under Harry's invisibility cloak meant anyone who _did_ hear them arrive would probably put the noise down to an unruly child using their new air rifle.

Harry reached out and tried the door; he was unsurprised to find it locked. A whispered _Alohomora_ soon remedied that; he let himself and Danielle into the four bedroomed house and quietly closed the door behind them, a _Colloportus_ locking the door again before a couple more waves of his wand preceded their walk upstairs to the second largest bedroom; a loud knock was required to be heard over the music throbbing through the door. The young man around Harry's age opened it with an annoyed expression on his face, one that changed to a smile as he saw his cousin.

"Haz?" Dudley Dursley asked.

"Happy New Year Dud," he smiled, pulling him into a quick hug, one that brought Dudley into eye contact with the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. His jaw dropped at the woman who was gorgeous, blonde, gorgeous, blue-eyed, gorgeous, a little shorter than Harry, gorgeous, seemingly around the same age his cousin – oh and she was gorgeous.

"Hello," he managed stupidly as he continued to stare at her.

"Dud, this is my girlfriend Danielle. She speaks a little English but not that much just yet." He turned to the Veela. "Danielle, c'est Dudley."

Dudley gently took the blonde's hand and kissed the back of it. He racked his brains to recall the French he'd learnt at school. "I'm very happy to meet you," he managed; she smiled appreciatively at his efforts.

"It is wonderful to meet you too," she replied in English. He gestured to his room and the three of them entered, Harry and Danielle perching on the edge of his bed while he turned around the seat by his desk so that he could face them.

"What did mum and dad say when they saw you?" he asked.

"They didn't," Harry replied simply; Dudley looked curiously at him.

"The door was unlocked?" he asked in surprise, knowing how security conscious his parents were.

"It was locked," his cousin countered with a small grin. Dudley smiled and shook his head.

"What will you do if they come up while you're here?"

"They won't," Harry answered simply but with a grin that betrayed what he'd done. "Don't worry," he assured his cousin in response to his comprehending look, "I'll lift the charm on the stairs before we go; you won't be stuck up here."

"It would be a good excuse for not going in to work," Dudley chuckled, "I can't come in today, my cousin cast a spell on the stairs and I'm stuck on the first floor."

* * *

"We'd better go," Harry glances at the clock on his cousin's wall; they'd pretty much caught up on each other's recent news, "I've got to make sure the girls get back to school."

Dudley nodded reluctantly. They stood and the cousins hugged before Dudley kissed Danielle on the cheek. He opened the bedroom door and crept to the top of the stairs in order to check on his parents. A blank look crossed his face and he turned to walk back to his room, the look morphing into one of mild confusion as he saw Harry and Danielle.

"Bye Dud," Harry said quickly; his cousin nodded absently before he shook his head to clear it.

"That was weird," he observed.

"It was the repelling charm," Harry explained. "I'll lift it when we get downstairs."

"Please do, that just feels… urgh. Such a shame you need to do it," he lamented, "I really wish that after all this time mum and dad would accept you lot for who you are. Doesn't look like it will ever happen though," he added in a tone of resignation. "Say hi to the twins for me."

Harry gave a small, sad nod and led Danielle downstairs; he unlocked the door and they left before with a casual wave of his wand he removed the charm from the stairs then quietly closed and locked the door. Taking his lover's arm he apparated them back to Godric's Hollow to floo his sisters back to Hogwarts.

 _12 Grimmauld Place,_

 _London_

"Kreacher!" Regulus called, sounding more and more exasperated by the moment.

"Yes, master?" the house-elf shuffled into the room with a hint of nervousness. Ever since Regulus had inherited the house and elf from his family, life had been good for Kreacher; nobody had hit him or ordered him to punish himself and his adoration for his master had grown day by day. Over the last couple of days, since the lodgers had begun to arrive, this was threatening to change; his master was in a noticeably poorer mood than he had been and the new arrivals had looked at the house-elf like he was something they'd scrape off their shoes. He was thankful that the Bulgarians couldn't give him a direct order, nor were they overly fluent in English, otherwise he was certain that he'd have experienced considerable pain over the past few hours. Seeing Regulus in such a foul mood, however, led the elf to the logical conclusion for his species – that the good times were over, he was at fault and would suffer the consequences.

"We have more _guests_ coming," Black growled. "Do we still have a free bedroom for more people?"

"No, master," Kreacher shook his head, his large ears flapping as it did. "All the bedrooms in the house are full," he shrank back a little, anticipating the ire his answer would surely yield.

Instead, Black frowned. "We have the study and library upstairs," he noted. "Secure the books, I don't want any of these foreigners taking _anything_ from my house, and see if you can put a couple of beds in those rooms; we'll put them there for a couple of days."

"It will be done, master," the elf backed out of the room before his owner could change his mind.

"Oblansk!" he shouted, after flinging some floo powder into his fireplace; the flames crackled and he glared at the green, dancing flames while he waited on the Bulgarian to answer.

Time passed slowly for Black; he continued to glare at the fire while he waited. "Oblansk? Are you there?" he demanded.

 _Ministerial Manor,_

 _Sofia, Bulgaria_

"Are you going to answer?" the Minister's wife asked timidly; her husband glared at her and she dropped her eyes back to her book.

"In a little while," he replied regally. "It does not do to let people carry on believing themselves to be important. _Especially_ someone as insignificant as Mr Black."

Knowing what was expected of her, Oblansk's wife nodded demurely and remained silent; the Minister refrained from elaborating on his comment.

The fire dimmed and returned to its usual red-orange hue as Black gave up on trying to contact him; Oblansk tossed some floo powder into the fireplace and summoned his own deputy. Unlike the Minister, the Deputy replied instantaneously, hustling out of the fire moments after being called for.

"You wished to see me, Minister?" he asked.

"Yes, let us step into my study," he gestured from the room and the two officials strolled through the Ministerial residence; the Deputy paused for a moment as he heard a muffled sob from somewhere in the distance.

"Your pet?" he asked; Oblansk nodded.

"The training of the creature goes well," he declared. "Her spirit is breaking as she comes to accept the hopelessness of her position here."

"Mine still has some fight in her," the Deputy remarked. "Fortunately she has yet to reach the age where she can transform and throw fireballs. I must break her before then."

"It will certainly be better for your health to do so," his boss remarked in amusement.

"What did you wish to discuss, Minister?" he asked once they were seated in the study.

"The sleeper cell is slowly making its way to England. I wish for you to make contact while you are over there."

There was a brief spell of silence. "I did not realise that I _was_ going there."

"For the Quidditch match," Oblansk stated. " _I_ can't go," he observed. "We are in dispute with Britain over Potter's refusal to surrender his son to us. As part of our 'diplomatic protest' you will represent our government at the match. While you are there, speak to Black, talk to our operatives and make sure things are on track."

"When do I leave?"

"The game is a week tomorrow; you will go next Friday."

"Very well."

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Oblansk stood again, "I must speak to Black the next time he tries to contact me."

They returned to the living room, where Oblansk's wife continued to sit staring at her book. "I will see you on Monday morning," the Minister stated; his underling nodded and stepped into the fire to return home. No sooner had he done so than the flames glowed green again and Regulus' voice could be heard.

"Oblansk!" He sounded even more agitated than he had done earlier.

"Hello, Black," he called back, sitting calmly in his winged chair, suppressing a smile as the Briton's head appeared in the fire. "Have our people arrived?" he asked innocently.

" _Yes_ ," Black spat. "So many have arrived that my house is full. I cannot take any more _guests_ at this time."

"That is… unfortunate," Oblansk said thoughtfully, scratching his chin as though in thought. In truth there were no plans to send anyone else until those currently there became established in Britain, but he decided Black didn't need to know that.

Regulus waited expectantly while the Bulgarian pretended to consider the situation. "Perhaps we can come to some arrangement," he finally suggested. "If you were able to help your guests find a more permanent home then we could send the others to them instead."

Black scowled at the thinly-veiled suggestion that he subsidise the newcomers. Having cast his lot in with the Empire, however, it was clear that he had few other options but to go along with their plans, especially with a sleeper cell under his roof.

"Very well," he agreed. "I will have them established in muggle London as soon as possible. Of course," he added, "it will prove impossible to get the Ministry to add muggle homes to the floo network, _especially_ if Bulgarians are living there – Potter and his cohorts aren't _that_ stupid – but if they don't wish to travel by muggle means the way the others have then they can always floo to my home before leaving to join their compatriots."

"Excellent," Oblansk clapped his hands, "I knew we could count on you Regulus. Keep me informed – oh, and my Deputy will be visiting you next week while he's over for the Quidditch match between our countries: I trust you will be supporting us?" Black said nothing; as a former Quidditch player himself at Hogwarts he would be cheering for England, but wasn't going to confirm that to his audience. "Anyway, any updates you or the others have will be able to be passed on to him. Now, if there's nothing else?" He gave Black a second to speak, when he didn't he bid him farewell and ended the connection. As he pulled his head from the fire, Regulus wondered for the first time if he had made a very bad mistake in anger, or if it was too late to correct it. He shrugged off the thought, particularly while his guests remained under his roof.

 _Ambassador's Suite,_

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

"Welcome home," Harry grinned as he helped Danielle out of the floo in his rooms; after spending the trip in clothes she'd borrowed/acquired from Lily and the twins, the Veela was once again wearing the pale blue robes that the other women from the castle sported (though she had kept much of the attire for future visits or excursions away from her home).

"Thank you," she gave an exaggeratedly formal bow, "Ambassador." They both sniggered. One last kiss and Danielle opened the door to return to her own room. "'Arry," she called as she looked at the outside of his door, "there is a message from the Queen," she added, recognising the seal on the roll of the parchment stuck to the door.

The young Ambassador walked over to join her; after a tug on the parchment failed to dislodge it he used his wand to cancel the charm and unrolled the scroll.

"Her Majesty wishes to speak to me on my return," he declared, rolling up the note again. "I'm sure I'll find out the reason when I see her. I'll see you at dinner?"

Danielle nodded and the two went their separate ways.

 _Royal Office_

The two guards stationed outside the office bowed to Harry as he arrived. One of the women rapped on the door, awaiting the monarch's summons. Once Fleur had called on them to enter, the guards opened the door and allowed Harry to cross the threshold before Fleur dismissed them with a wave.

"Ambassador, welcome back," she rose, walked around the desk and kissed the young man on the cheek, rather to his surprise. "I trust you had a pleasant trip?"

"I did, Your Majesty," he confirmed. "Danielle also enjoyed her visit to Britain, though I think her knowledge of Quidditch is somewhat patchy," he added with a grin; the Queen nodded but said nothing as the members of her realm hadn't experienced the game in centuries.

"I wanted to speak to you, 'Arry," she began cautiously, "about the women who were kidnapped from Bulgaria. Your sources told us that some were sent to Prague while the younger ones that your countrymen could not rescue remain in Bulgaria, presumed prisoners of high-ranking members of the regime." Harry nodded at the assessment. "Has your government been able to come up with a strategy for rescuing them?"

He looked uncomfortably at her. "At this point, Fleur, there is nothing in place. We need more intel from Bulgaria on where the girls are before we can begin to put something together and the homes of these people, which is where we assume they would be, are too well defended for us to get any confirmation…" he trailed off as an idea occurred to him. "There _might_ be a way," he mused, "but it would be risky. Our best bet might be while the Bulgarian delegation is over in England for the Quidditch match this month." He focussed his gaze on the Queen again. "Leave it with me, Your Majesty. I need to speak to some people back home but I'll keep you updated."

"My people would be most grateful," she assured him before stepping closer to him and looking him right in the eye. "So would I," she breathed before stepping back again. "Please, 'Arry, contact your people," she urged. He nodded and, recognising the dismissal, turned and left the office. To his surprise Danielle was stood waiting for him, along with a handful of other courtiers that he recognised.

"Hello," he greeted her, his surprise increasing as she made no effort to walk with him, instead waiting to be called into the Royal Office.

"You're not the only one who is summoned by the Queen," she observed with a smile.

"Ah, enter," Fleur ordered; the guards closed the door as Harry walked away. "I have called you all here as I wish to appoint you to new positions…" she began.

 _Ambassador's Suite_

"Nev?" Harry called after throwing a pinch of floo powder into his fireplace.

"Harry?" Neville's mother Alice answered. "Neville's not here, he's visiting Jennifer tonight."

Harry grimaced. "I could really do with speaking with him. Could you ask Uncle Frank to get him to contact me from the Ministry tomorrow morning?" He grinned slyly at his godmother. "I assume he won't be home tonight?"

Alice chuckled. "Probably not, but I'll get him to contact you tonight, just give me a minute."

Harry nodded and terminated the call; he picked up a book and flicked idly through it while speculating on what the Queen wanted to speak to Danielle about and going over exactly what he wanted to say to his old friend.

"Harry?" The call drew him back to the present; he scrambled to his feet before dropping to his knees in front of the fire.

"Neville, I've just spoken to the Queen; she was asking about whether we had any firm plans to recover the girls who were captured from the exclave. I explained the problems we'd encountered," he pressed on as Neville opened his mouth to remind him of the conversations they'd shared on the subject, "but then something occurred to me – Granger gave me a tracker before I started this mission; I'd forgotten all about it while I've been living here but someone could probably use it, or something similar, to at least determine whether a house had a Veela living in it."

"Yes," Neville's eyes lit up. "We at least know the addresses of most of the people in the Bulgarian government; we could send someone undercover, and under an invisibility cloak, to check these properties for the presence of a Veela. If so…"

"Then at least we'd know _where_ they are," Harry nodded, "then we can start to work out when and how to mount the rescue mission."

"It wouldn't be fool proof," the Auror cautioned, "since the Bulgarians have more of a history of coexisting with Veela than we do."

"True but I doubt many members of a government of their persuasion are going to be children of, or married to, Veela so I don't expect any 'false positives'," Harry countered after pondering Neville's words.

"Good point," Neville agreed. "I'll run it past Bones on Monday when she's back in the office."

"Great. I'll let you get back to more pleasant things," Harry grinned; Neville mock-glowered for a moment before he laughed and extricated himself from the fireplace.

 _Jen's Home_

"Everything ok?" Jen called as Neville reappeared in her kitchen; the Imps' seeker hurried into the room to see him, rather surprised to see him still smiling after hurrying home at his mother's summons.

"Yes, fine," he confirmed. "Harry needed to talk to me so I needed somewhere that I could make the floo call to the Veela castle from. Mum and dad's is one of the few places in Britain that's set up to take calls from there."

"Mine's not even set up for international calls, never mind contacting somewhere like that," Jen commented.

"I'm not surprised, given how much it costs," her boyfriend returned. "I'm pretty sure my folks wouldn't have bothered if the Ministry hadn't paid for it."

"What did he want?" she asked before grinning, "Assuming it's not a state secret of course."

"Not _quite_ ," the Auror smiled back, "but he had an idea for how we can try and rescue those Veela girls who were abducted in Bulgaria last year; he might have a device for locating them so we can try and narrow down the areas we'd have to hit and search, which would make it less risky."

"Are you going to be involved in the mission?" she asked in concern, knowing how risky the operation would be.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I need to put Harry's idea to Director Bones first, then she'll put a plan together, or not if she doesn't think it can be done without excessive risk, and only then would she put the team together and start fine-tuning things. If it does happen, it won't be overnight."

 _Main Hall,_

 _Le Chateau Delacour,_

 _Location Unknown_

Harry elected to sit at the top table; Fleur entered the room shortly after and took her place in the middle of the table before gesturing to Harry to join her. He shuffled over a couple of places to sit at the Queen's left hand.

"I have spoken to a friend back in England," he began, "and we may have a way to locate the missing girls. I'll keep you informed as I know more."

"Thank you, Ambassador," she replied formally, though he could see gratitude shimmering in her eyes. The expression changed in an instant as she appeared to focus on something over his shoulder; Harry glanced around, his own eyes widening in surprise as he saw Danielle take the seat to his left. In and of itself that wasn't too surprising (even though she wasn't _officially_ supposed to sit at the top table, unless it was as his guest) but her attire was, she was dressed in golden robes similar to those worn by the Queen for official engagements, although the shoulders of the robes were of red, white and blue.

"Ambassador, when we met with your government we were invited to appoint an Ambassador of our own to your country: as the courtier most fluent in your native language, Danielle has been chosen to represent our nation to yours."


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

 _Ambassador's Suite_

Harry sat on his bed, feeling as if the bottom had fallen out of his world; it had taken all his self-control not to cause a diplomatic incident when Fleur made her pronouncement. The Queen had, he had to admit, set out the justification eloquently; Danielle _was_ the only Veela who was remotely fluent in English and so she was the logical choice to place in London. Any one of the senior courtiers could go to France, Belgium or another Francophone nation but the nation's insularity meant that any Ambassador to another nation would have to pick up the language fairly quickly after being appointed.

 _How did it come to this?_ He asked himself. He was Harry Potter; he'd always enjoyed his no-strings fun with the ladies (indeed, that was exactly what Danielle had promised before – and after – they first slept together), so how, he wondered, had it reached the point that he couldn't envisage life at the castle without her?

For her part, Danielle hadn't commented at all on the appointment over dinner and had headed back to her room afterwards while Fleur had discussed the appointment with him, including asking him to ensure that she would have somewhere to live and to work while carrying out her duties. He promised to speak to the Department for International Co-operation on Monday and left as quickly as etiquette would allow.

Harry sighed morosely and dragged himself to his feet; trudging into his bathroom he ran himself a bath, taking a couple of the books he'd brought back with him from home with him. He disrobed and sank into the hot water, trying to take in the novel he'd opened but barely reading a word as his mind raged with thoughts of his lover and how they'd soon be parted. Giving up on the book, he leaned back in the bath and closed his eyes.

Harry awoke with a shiver; he was momentarily surprised to find himself in the bath before his thoughts came flooding back to him. He stepped out of the bath, realising as he did that the water had long since cooled and he found himself wondering just how long he'd slept in the tub. He took his robe from the bathroom door but settled for just throwing it over his shoulder as he walked into his bedroom. He climbed into bed and closed his eyes again. This time, sleep was a long time in coming.

 _Main Hall,_

 _Saturday, 3_ _rd_ _January 2004_

"'Arry." A still-weary Harry started; he looked up from his lunch to see Danielle, again wearing her new robes, eyeing him with concern. "Are you ok? I came to see you last night but you did not answer your door. Then you were not at breakfast."

Harry shifted slightly to allow her to slide into the seat next to his. "I… I've been better," he admitted. "I didn't sleep very well so I called for breakfast in my quarters. It was a shock to hear about your new job and… and that you'd be leaving the castle – leaving _me_ ," he added quietly.

"I know," she replied, "but this is an appointment from the Queen. I cannot refuse – nor would I wish to." He looked to her in surprise. "Do you not see that this is a wonderful opportunity for me?" she asked, an edge of annoyance creeping into her tone.

"Of course," he answered with a small nod and conciliatory tone. "To be an Ambassador – it's a great job for you to have and a very important one, especially with the way things are going in Europe; I expect you will be able to play a huge role in determining how your nation participates in all that is to come over the next few years. I _am_ happy for you to have earned this job but…" a couple of tears pricked at his eyes, "I will miss you."

"And I you," she returned, taking his hand. "But I _have_ to go, just as you must stay here. I will always remember you and treasure our time together, 'Arry, but with our jobs… maybe it must come to an end."

"Couldn't we floo back and forth?" he asked hopefully; she considered it.

"Perhaps, but whether our schedules permit it, I don't know," Danielle shrugged. "Besides," she added with a grin that never threatened her eyes, "I'm sure there are plenty of women here who would be delighted to take my place."

"None of them would be you," he mumbled; she heard him and bowed her head a little. They ate the rest of their meals in silence.

"I have a meeting with the Queen," Danielle stated as she rose; she hesitated before quickly caressing Harry's cheek as she headed towards the Royal Office. The young Briton didn't notice that he was the subject of many hushed discussions once the new appointee had left the room.

 _Department of International Magical Co-operation,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

 _Monday 5_ _th_ _January 2004_

"Mr. Lestrange,"the Head of the department looked up at his secretary as she entered his office.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"You have a floo call," the demure witch declared. "Acting Ambassador Potter, the Ambassador to the Veela nation, says he needs to speak with you."

The old Pureblood sighed. "Very well," he conceded, unhappy about lowering himself to speaking to a mere half-blood but having few options given the young man's position and that of his father, "link him to my office." The secretary nodded and left the room as he turned his chair to face the fire in the room.

"Mr Potter," he began formally once Harry's head appeared in the fireplace. "What can I do for you?"

"The Queen of the Veela Nation has decreed that a Veela by the name of Danielle be appointed to the position of Ambassador to Great Britain," he stated with equal formality. "Her Majesty requests and requires that suitable accommodation befitting the position be found within the Ministry on a temporary basis and requests assistance in securing permanent premises for the Embassy."

"Is that so?" Lestrange asked in slight annoyance at the extent of the request. "And has _Her Majesty_ ," he used Fleur's title scathingly, "secured 'suitable permanent premises' for our own Embassy?"

"No, because no such request has come from our Ministry," Harry replied evenly; Rabastan looked abashed.

"Well…" he floundered a little, "Inform _Her Majesty_ that arrangements will be made. In the meantime, I shall have to be sure that our own request is made forthwith. After all, we can't have our _permanent_ Ambassador living in the castle forevermore can we, _Acting_ Ambassador?"

"Apparently not," Harry muttered once, without further comment, the Department Head had ended the call.

 _Royal Office_

 _Le Chateau Delacour_

 _Location Unknown_

"You wished to see me, Ambassador?" Fleur asked as Harry was shown into the office a couple of hours later; he'd sent his request through one of the Queen's guards and an appointment had been arranged.

"I spoke to our Head of International Relations earlier," he began, "and he assured me that arrangements will be made to accommodate your new Ambassador. He also," he continued as Fleur nodded; she had been about to speak when he pressed on, "intimated that Britain will look to establish a permanent Embassy outside of this castle and appoint a permanent Ambassador."

Fleur was surprised by the statement; she managed to maintain her regal poise and avoid displaying her shock but took a few seconds of silence to restore her composure. "I see," the blonde frowned finally. "If that is what your country wishes then we shall do our best to arrange it. As such a building would be outside of our lands we would have to ensure that access to the castle was properly regulated to maintain our security without offending your country. It will be difficult to balance everything," she conceded, "especially in comparison to having the Ambassador on site," Fleur added with a nod to the dark-haired young man. Fixing her gaze on him, though with softer eyes, she continued, "Speaking personally, 'Arry, I think it will be… unfortunate if you are replaced. It has not been easy for our people to learn to trust you, but you have _earned_ that trust. To replace you with someone else… we would find it difficult to feel as comfortable around them as we do you, _especially_ if another male was to replace you."

"That would probably not be a problem," Harry replied thoughtfully. "Most of our Ambassadors spend very little time actually liaising with their host country. Usually they have to deal with our countrymen who have some sort of problem – losing their Portkey, being a victim of crime – or causing one," he added with a small grin, "that sort of thing. Given that you've only had a handful of British visitors and no more visits are planned at the moment, I don't think a new Ambassador would have too big a workload at the moment."

Fleur nodded. "I do not think we are not going to be a tourist destination," she noted with a small smile, "particularly as we are still so uneasy about having many male visitors. Perhaps in a generation or two that will change. I hope so," she finished wistfully.

"If it does, it will be your doing," he complimented her.

"I just hope my successors do not judge me harshly; I sometimes wonder if our culture would survive such a shift from isolation to involvement in the world," she commented.

Knowing how the Veela currently went about propagating their species, Harry privately felt that _some_ of their cultures and traditions should be allowed to die; as a diplomat he would never say that to their Queen of course.

"Where would you go if somebody else was appointed?" Fleur asked. "Back to Britain?"

"That would be the most likely outcome," he confirmed, "though with things the way they are with the Bulgarians, and the unknown number of plotters and sympathisers to their cause in the country, it may not be the safest option for me, even with my father's position in the Ministry."

"Speaking personally again, I would miss you if you were to leave."

He snorted a laugh. "Perhaps I could seek asylum here."

"If it came to it I'm sure that could be arranged," Fleur gave him a glowing smile; Harry found himself wondering, just for a moment, whether Her Majesty had an ulterior motive for getting his lover out of the castle. He elected not to inquire; instead he gave a small bow and left the office.

 _Minister's Office,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

"What do you make of that?" James asked his wife as they finished speaking to Harry.

"Poor Harry; he must be heartbroken."

The Minister nodded. "It sounds as if Queen Fleur wants Danielle over here within a few weeks, as soon as we can arrange offices for a temporary Embassy for her."

"I wish we could bring him home for a bit," Lily lamented, "but he's only just gone back there and he'll have a lot of work to do keeping them updated on the plans for it."

"Yes," James gave a hollow chuckle, "he's going to be busy planning his girlfriend's move over here. It sounds like I need to speak to Lestrange as well, from what Harry said."

"Right," Lily nodded, "it sounds like the DIMC wants to replace him _and_ have somewhere outside of the castle for them."

"For _him_ no doubt," James corrected. "I can't imagine Lestrange picking a witch for an Ambassadorial role, even though this would be the perfect position for one."

"Can't you overrule him?"

"If I could then I'd leave Harry there; he's done a great job. It would also keep him hidden if Bulgaria carries on making noises." The Minister ran a hand through his ever-messy hair. "Doubtless Oblansk will raise the issue when he comes over for the Quidditch next week."

"In front of everyone?"

"In a public place during a major event – it's the perfect place to have genuine discussions." Lily looked confused. "No one expects us to leave the Quidditch stadium with any agreements in place so we can actually _talk_ about things openly and then leave the diplomacy to official events."

"I suppose it makes sense to somebody," the red-head muttered, unwilling to think too much about the stranger workings of the political world. "What will you do about Harry if he _does_ have to come back and they start sabre-rattling in the ICW again?"

James gave her the amused grin that she'd always found adorable; the one he wore every time she used a non-magical expression that he'd never heard while growing up in a magical household. "Find somewhere else for him to go for a while. If all else fails I'll ask Minerva to give him a secondment to Hogwarts for a year."

Lily nodded. "I'm sure she'd agree, and there's no doubt our boy is smart enough to teach half of the courses there."

James grinned. "Heather and Rose would love it if their big brother was teaching them." Lily swatted his arm.

"Don't joke about things like that. That class would be a baptism of fire for him, definitely."

"At least he has a lot of experience of trying to keep those two in line." This time Lily giggled.

"Just not a long track record of success," she added, causing her husband to laugh as well.

 _12 Grimmauld Place_

Laughter was in short supply for the owner of the house; Regulus felt that his guests had already outstayed their welcome. Black was also coming to fear that the promises he'd received from Bulgaria might not be honoured at all. At best he would be the puppet leader of the country after the Empire's invasion succeeded. At worst… it was a toss-up between anonymity and execution, depending on the outcome.

"Kreacher?" he called quietly, his paranoia rising to the point where he felt his visitors were hiding around every corner, listening in on him.

The house-elf appeared in the room with a loud _crack_. "Yes, master?"

"I want you to close down the floo to international traffic. _Only_ you are to be able to undo it, do you understand?"

Kreacher was startled by both the request and the urgency in his master's voice. "Yes, master, Kreacher will do that," he answered immediately though.

Black nodded. There would be no more visitors from abroad and no more messages from Oblansk. When people asked he could always cite the cost of the calls as his reason for doing it.

The first complaint came less than an hour later; an irate Bulgarian yelling threats in broken English and demanding that Kreacher restore the international connection. When the elf refused, citing his master's explicit instructions, the foreigner struck him, sending him sailing out of the bedroom he occupied. Unfortunately for the Bulgarian, Regulus was walking down the corridor as his servant flew through the door a few paces ahead of him, smacking into the wall with an audible thud. Black stormed into the room, wand in hand and stunned first before an _incarcerous_ put him in position to begin asking questions.

"Vat is the meaning of this?" demanded the leader of the Expeditionary Force as he raced into the room just as Black was about to revive his downed countryman. "Release him at vunce!"

"The only way," Black suddenly changed his mind; he put ice into every syllable of his reply, "this piece of filth is revived is so he can pack his things and leave my house. _Nobody_ attacks me or my elf."

"It's just an elf," the Bulgarian looked with distaste at the groaning form of Kreacher as he struggled back to his feet.

"You can leave with him," Black stated flatly. "Take him and get out."

"Ve haf a deal!" the soldier protested.

"The deal changed the moment you abused my hospitality – and Kreacher," he gestured to the elf, who was already standing tall again and looking as if nothing had happened.

The Bulgarian stepped up, getting right in Black's face. "You vill regret this," he promised; with an angry _enervate_ he revived his downed colleague, who immediately began to struggle against his bonds. "Release him," he demanded.

"When your friend here is packed and the two of you are ready to leave," Black replied. Looking over his shoulder he could see they now had an audience. "The rest of you," they flinched a little, "are welcome to stay until you are ready to get your own place to live – so long as _you_ do nothing to outstay your welcome."

They nodded and hurriedly retreated back to their own rooms, much to the chagrin of their leader. Regulus suppressed a small smile; maybe divide-and-conquer could work for him here.

Once the two Bulgarians had left his house, Black let out a long sigh of relief. Kreacher was busy preparing dinner for them all and Black had the elf call everyone to eat together. The visitors crammed warily into the kitchen and sat around the empty table, looking nervously at their host.

"As I said earlier," Regulus began, "everyone in this house is welcome to stay, so long as they abide by the rules of the house and treat me, my house and my elf with respect," he emphasised.

They nodded in unison, all well aware of the consequences of getting on Black's bad side.

"Kreacher?" Black called; in reply dinner materialised on the table. "Please," Black gestured to the fare and they began to eat.

"It is unusual," the guest closest to Black began, after ladling soup into his bowl, "that you are so concerned with the well-being of an elf. To most of us they are servants, or even tools. I do not excuse their behaviour," he added hastily as Regulus's complexion began to match his name, "but your attitude is not one that ve are used to in our country."

"It is rare in _this_ country as well," Black admitted, "but that doesn't mean I'd excuse any _British_ guests mistreating him either."

"Our family has never owned an elf," the Bulgarian continued; he dropped his voice a little but scanned the table to ensure that he wasn't going to be overheard. "It vill be true of almost everyone here; only a Pureblood may own an elf now in our country."

"Vorse than that," the gentleman on Black's other side commented, leaning in to join the conversation. "Ven Oblansk vas elected he passed a law allowing Pureblood wizards to seize House Elves from any non-Pureblood owner without payment. It vas very popular to the old families, of course, but ven they took the elf from my parents..." he sighed, "they died not long after. They vere very old, you see, and losing the comforts the elf gave them... vell, let's just say I blame Oblansk for their death."

"If that's so," Black asked quietly, "why do you work for him and his government. Why did you accept this assignment?"

"A job is a job," he shrugged, "and..." he glanced around cautiously but the others were deep in their own conversations, "leaving Bulgaria for a vile is no bad thing."

It seemed obvious to Black that the man was planning to defect at an opportune moment; he made a mental note to talk to him about it later on.

"I vonder vat our 'friends' are doing," the other Bulgarian spoke up, "and vere they have found to live."

"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough," Black assured him.

 _Department of Magical Law Enforcement,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

 _London, United Kingdom_

 _Tuesday, 6_ _th_ _January 2004_

"Good morning Longbottom," Amelia Bones greeted Neville as she entered the department. "It sounds like you had an interesting night last night."

"Yes, ma'am," he confirmed. "Around 11p.m. we were alerted to magic being performed in a non-magical area of west London. We," he gestured to his team, "arrived at the scene to find two wizards and several stunned non-magicals, including two of their policemen. We quickly stunned the aggressors and brought them to the Ministry cells where, under brief questioning, we found them to be Bulgarian nationals who would say nothing else without one of their representatives being present."

"Interesting," Bones scratched her chin thoughtfully, "have you contacted the Bulgarian Embassy?"

"No ma'am," Neville shook his head. "We've confiscated their wands and for now we're just letting them stew. To be honest…" he trailed off, biting his lip.

"Go on," his boss prompted; Neville shook his head.

"I'm too close to this – because of what happened to Harry. Forget it."

"If you have a suggestion, Longbottom, let's hear it."

He sighed. "I don't trust _any_ Bulgarian mages at the moment. I'd be tempted to dose their food with Veritaserum and find out why the hell they're here."

Bones grimaced; she wasn't opposed to the idea but, in addition to her underling's bluntness she could see one glaring problem with it. "Doing that could _easily_ be considered to be an act of war, Longbottom," she cautioned.

"I know," he agreed, "but to all intents and purposes we _are_ at war with them – with this whole Empire really. They attacked Harry in the Veela enclave, we snuck into their Ministry and freed some of the girls. We _know_ they're moving west across Europe and it's only a matter of time before _we_ become the target. What if they're some sort of… advanced unit or something?" he speculated.

"Or they could have a perfectly legitimate reason to be in the country," she warned.

"Which is the bigger risk?" Neville asked. "Action or inaction?"

Bones eyed him for a long moment. "This is too big for just our department," she decided finally, "I'll take it to the Minister."


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

 _Holding Cells,_

 _Wednesday, 7_ _th_ _January 2004_

"Your dinner," Neville said sullenly as he dumped the meagre tray on the small table in the corner of the cell that housed the two Bulgarian captives; the young man looked every inch a Pureblood prince begrudging the fact that someone of his standing had been reduced to delivering food to prisoners. It was a mannerism that they seemed to empathise with, though it did nothing to derail their focus on their own situation.

"Ven vil ve be able to speak to our Embassy?" the older of the two demanded.

"Soon," the Senior Auror responded tersely; without another word he turned on his heel and joined his colleague outside the door, which was locked again behind him. As he left the cell he watched out of the corner of his eye as the two prisoners ate their meal; he smiled to himself as they each drained a goblet laced with the truth serum.

Five minutes later each was taken to a separate interview room.

 _Minister's Office_

 _Thursday, 8_ _th_ _January 2004_

"And this was obtained under Veritaserum?" James sought confirmation.

"Yes, sir," Amelia confirmed. "Aurors Longbottom," she nodded to the Deputy Minister, who was also present, "and Tonks led the interrogations and the Bulgarians, very reluctantly, divulged the information to us. They were screaming throughout that there would be hell to pay when their country found out, but we got the information from them – about the plot, about Regulus Black's involvement, everything."

James drummed his fingers against his desk; the implications were troubling – both the Bulgarians' plans and the way in which the DMLE had discovered them; conceivably it could bring down his Ministry if the wrong people found out and kicked up a stink about it, even though they weren't acting on his orders. "All inadmissible of course, given how it was obtained, even though it _is the_ truth. So what can we do? Can we bring Black in? He no longer has Wizengamot protection so we can get him to answer all our questions about this."

Bones frowned. "His home is known to be unplottable so it won't be easy to get hold of him but if you want him brought in then we'll get him eventually."

"In the meantime," the Minister sat back in his chair, "I trust the interrogation has been _obliviated_ from their minds?"

"Do you _really_ want to know?" Bones asked him; James hesitated. Maintaining a little plausible deniability was always a useful thing for a Minister to possess after all.

"Perhaps you and I should discuss this on the way back to your department?" Frank Longbottom suggested. With a small nod from the Minister he steered Bones out of the office.

"It was done as soon as they were returned to their cell; we stunned and _obliviated_ them," Bones informed him. "Best as they know, it appears, they simply had dinner yesterday and spent a tedious evening in their cells. We interrogated them again this morning but without the serum they refused to talk and continued to demand to speak to their country's representative. Since they don't have their wands, hopefully they won't suspect that anything happened to them at all."

"When will you let them speak to their Embassy?"

"We're going to contact them this afternoon, advise them that two wizards claiming to be Bulgarian were arrested and are demanding representation. _Officially_ we still don't have names for them so it will be interesting to see if they can identify them."

"You didn't get their _names_ under Veritaserum?" Frank asked in surprise.

"Of course we did," Bones replied with a small grin, "but we want to see if they'll admit to knowing these two are here."

 _Friday 9_ _th_ _January 2004_

"You wanted to see me, Prongs?" Sirius sauntered into the office; Lily hovered in the doorway until, with a small nod, her husband invited her into the room. She closed the door behind them, triggering the soundproofing charm.

"Padfoot, can you get in touch with your brother? Maybe pay him a visit?"

The Wizengamot member shook his head. "Sorry, Prongs, but when my parents named Regulus as their chosen heir instead of me it meant that I could be excluded from the protections around… the family home – see, I can't even _say_ the address. I can _remember_ it but I can't say it _or_ write it down."

"Is there _any_ way that you can make contact? Anything at all?" Lily asked.

"What about the family elf?" James enquired suddenly. "Would he be willing to come to speak to you?"

"It would be his – or rather Regulus's choice," he explained. "Assuming Kreacher is still alive; he was old when I left home. The Elf is tied to the family so he _might_ respond to my call but Regulus is clearly his master so he could easily overrule me."

"Even though you control the family's Wizengamot seat?" Lily asked curiously.

"There's a big difference between being Head of House and representing it in the government," Sirius explained patiently, appreciating that the first-generation witch still knew only a small portion of the intricate world of Pureblood family politics. "While the Head of House _normally_ is _also_ the representative the two aren't one and the same; I didn't replace him as Head of House when he was forced to resign – remember he was intending to name his own successor. I will try calling Kreacher though, see if Regulus is willing to meet you. When should I arrange it for?"

"As soon as possible," James answered. "Get a time and I'll ensure I'm available."

Padfoot nodded, appreciating that the matter must be an urgent one. "I won't _tell_ him that though; we don't want him thinking he's too important," he added with a smile. "Kreacher?" he called as he left the office.

The three waited in silence to see if the elf would respond to Sirius's summons. A few tense moments later a loud _crack_ rent the air and the old elf appeared in the ante room, muttering under its breath.

"Nasty blood traitor had the nerve to call Kreacher. Minister's Office occupied by blood traitors and mudbloods. Oh, mistress would be ashamed to see the world like this."

Sirius bit his tongue as he stopped by Lily's desk; much as he'd like to berate Kreacher for insulting them, he knew he had to deliver a message.

"Kreacher, the Minister wishes to speak to Regulus. Ask him to come to the Ministry as soon as possible."

The elf shot him a loathing look before disappearing again.

"Do you think he will pass the message on?" Lily asked; she and her husband had been watching from the doorway to the Minister's Office.

"He responded to my summons, however unwillingly. That means Regulus either approved of his doing so or will want to know where he went. He will get the message."

Another _crack_ heralded the old elf's return. "Master Regulus asks Minister Blood Traitor for certain assurances before he visits."

"What does he want?" James asked sharply, not at all happy at the way he was described.

"Master Regulus wants a written promise that he will be allowed to come and go freely and his information will not be used against him. If Minister agrees, Kreacher will bring the document for him to sign."

James frowned and traded glances with his wife and his best friend; surely Black's request _proved_ that he was in on whatever was being planned but getting the information about what Bulgaria had planned was too important so he felt the price needed to be paid. "He has my word," he sighed in resignation.

Kreacher snapped his fingers and disappeared again; ten minutes later he returned with a scroll of parchment. James read through it, Lily peering over his shoulder. The couple nodded to one another once they'd finished, casting their eyes over Black's flourished signature.

"This is acceptable," he told Kreacher as he signed underneath Regulus's. "Bring Regulus over as soon as possible," he handed it back to the elf, who disappeared with a nod.

 _Department of Magical Research,_

 _Ministry of Magic,_

"Hermione," Luna called her boss as she read the memo she'd just opened." The older witch looked up from her desk. "There's a visitor for you in the Atrium."

Hermione looked at her deputy with surprise; visitors to their department were a rarity and she also knew that visitors to most heads of department were shown where to go or even led there – clearly her fiefdom, or more likely her blood status, still wasn't considered important enough by the Ministry staff.

"Can they send them up?" she retorted, grumpily; it was getting towards mid-afternoon and neither woman had eaten due to the amount of work they were trying to get done before the weekend.

"I'll ask," Luna offered happily, scribbling on the parchment before, with a tap of her wand, it folded itself back into an aeroplane shape and flew out of their office, leading to Hermione returning to her paperwork.

"Do you know who it was?" Hermione asked a minute or so later.

"Oh yes," Luna confirmed with a smile, "an old friend of yours," she added knowingly.

"Who?" Hermione persisted before being answered by a gruff, masculine voice.

"Hello, Herm-oh-ninny," her head snapped towards the door at the sound.

"Viktor?" she asked in shock; sure, she'd hear about the big match taking place the next day – nobody in magical Britain was talking about anything _else_ – and she knew Viktor was one of Bulgaria's top players but she hadn't expected him to visit _her_. She stood as the tall Bulgarian strode over to her desk and found herself swept into a hug by him. "How are you? It's good to see you," she gabbled, a small part of her brain realising it was the truth, not just words.

"I haf been keeping vell," he confirmed. "You look as lovely as ever." A blush crept into the brunette's cheeks. "Vould you haf time for a meal?"

Hermione's face broke into a wide smile. "Luna, I'm out to lunch," she declared, looping an arm through Krum's and exiting the office at high speed.

"Strange," the blonde commented dreamily as she looked at the closed door, "that's usually what people say about me." She smiled widely. "Have a good weekend, boss," she stated before, seeing that her own tray was almost cleared, summoning a sheet of paper from her manager's in tray (recognising it was paper rather than parchment meant she had a good idea where it had originated from) and poring over the invention it detailed. "Ooh, a magical battery…"

 _Minister's Office_

"Mr Black, come in," Lily greeted the arrival; in an effort to underline his own importance Black had left them waiting an hour before he arrived, wearing formal dress robes and looking every inch the head of an old Pureblood house. He shot her a contemptuous look and strode past her into the Minister's Office without speaking.

"You wanted to see me, Minister?" he prompted brusquely as he sat down uninvited.

"First you can reply to my wife. I don't know how things are done in the House of Black but in the Ministry we treat _everyone_ with dignity and respect," James stated icily.

Black barked out a laugh. "Only if you're in earshot I assure you," he snarled back before turning to the redhead and muttering a sullen "Thank you for showing me in," and turning back to James. "So, what did you wish to speak to me about?"

"Your role in Bulgaria's attempts to overthrow our Ministry," James replied bluntly; Black was rocked out of his confident look a little.

"What do you mean?" he asked, a moment too late.

"You know perfectly well what I mean," Potter replied. "We arrested two of your house guests in London a couple of nights ago. They confessed to the plan – and your part in it."

"They are _not_ house guests of mine," Black countered angrily. "I threw them out when they abused my hospitality and attacked Kreacher."

"But you _are_ involved in a plot," James challenged; Black shrugged, taking a few seconds to get his temper back under control before he blurted anything out.

"You've given me assurances of immunity."

"And as part of the deal, _one_ _you agreed to_ , I want to know _everything_ you do about it," James reminded him.

Black sighed; he really had no choice but to admit everything, not least as he was now a lot more eager to see the incursion fail. "After the stunt you pulled getting me kicked out of the chamber and replaced by my _dear brother_ , I was angry; I will admit it. I was _especially_ angry with my 'friends' in our faction, how quick they were to cut Macnair and me adrift. It's no secret that I want your job, Minister, but the price the Empire is demanding is too high. I can tell you one thing though… not _all_ of my guests seek conquest. At least one, I'm sure, would consider defection."

This news was of interest to James. "Perhaps you should bring this potential defector in for a visit, Mr Black," he suggested.

"I'll do that on Monday," Black offered, getting up to leave.

"Not so fast," Potter cautioned him. "I'd like a lot more information before you leave," he added in an overly pleasant voice.

 _The Clarence,_

 _53 Whitehall_

Krum held the door open for his date; she thanked him for his action and approached the maitre d's station. Due to the early hour things were fairly quiet; Hermione's hasty transfiguration of their clothes into moderately formal non-magical workwear meant they did not look out of place, especially as some of the few patrons were dressed fairly casually on a Friday.

They were led to a small table for two in a quiet, dimly lit corner of the restaurant; a waiter appeared and lit the sole candle in the centre of the table before handing them a menu each and taking their drink orders. Viktor knew that wine was the _expected_ order in an establishment such as this; he was happy to let Hermione order for them both.

"So how have you been?" she asked once the waiter had brought the ordered bottle, poured them a glass apiece and dissolved back into the darkness. Hermione's mind wandered during Krum's monologue, back to their first meeting in her 4th year of Hogwarts, when Krum had been a part of the Durmstrang contingent that came to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. She'd initially rolled her eyes at the way girls swooned over him and many of the Purebloods and half-bloods eyed him with something akin to reverence due to his burgeoning reputation as a Quidditch superstar. She recalled his inviting her to the Yule Ball (she'd really wanted Harry to ask her but he'd opted to ask Lavender Big-Boobs instead; Hermione was surprised to discover that she still harboured a trace of bitterness in her musings about it after all this time). She was drawn from her reverie as she caught the tail end of a question from him, thankfully she was able to piece together enough of it to give an answer.

"Oh I've been doing well," her smile widened (Krum had been suitably convinced of her interest in his answer by the fact that she'd been looking at him even as her mind wandered), "I run my own department in the Ministry now, youngest Department Head in history actually," she added with a smile before chuckling. "It's hardly _International Quidditch Star_ but it's something."

"It's very impressive," he commended, "especially with how powerful people across the vorld treat people of your background". Any awkwardness from the bluntness of his observation was overcome as their waiter returned and asked to take their orders; Hermione ordered then for herself before, nodding to her date, she asked for a minute; she took the time to continue her silent reminisces as Viktor studied the menu some more.

The Yule Ball had been an enjoyable evening; as a champion's date she'd opened the dancing and had plenty of eyes on her as she flowed across the floor of the Great Hall. She'd kept a close eye on Harry as the evening had gone on; he and the busty Miss Brown had matched each other butterbeer for butterbeer all evening before they disappeared early, unnoticed by anyone other than the sharp-eyed Miss Granger, who even heard Brown's giggles as they left the Hall; it was very obvious to her how _their_ evening was going to end.

Viktor was talking again now; the waiter had retreated again with their dinner orders and she reflected on how much of a gentleman her date had been throughout the evening – even to the point of kissing her hand as they reached the Entrance Hall and he expected them to go their separate ways. In what she could now freely admit was a childish impulse to 'show Harry' she told Viktor she would walk him back to the Durmstrang ship; before long they were in his cabin and she knew how she wanted _her_ night to end. It had been her first time (with her second happening the following morning) and Krum had made it as pleasant as it could be, leading to them spending another night together after the final task of the tournament, just before the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons parties went their separate ways. She'd thought back then that she'd never see him again; letters between them had dwindled in frequency and finally stopped after a year or so – this was the first time they'd seen each other in more than seven years.

Her reminiscing complete, Hermione made sure that the conversation became more two-way, lapsing easily into friendly chatter between them. At age fifteen-to-sixteen she'd known that the bookworm and the Quidditch star didn't have too much in common but sitting here now he seemed genuinely interested in her job at the Ministry, understanding that she couldn't talk too much about what she was working on (particularly as, in his own words, he was part of 'the enemy'). They touched on Harry Potter, someone Viktor had come to know reasonably well over the year given they both played Seeker and had taken to flying together when weather and schedules allowed it (though Viktor sometimes thought back to their discussions about Hermione; Harry had come across as threatening in a protective brother way, though their conversations had never made it back to the witch herself). By the time dessert had been consumed, both diners were happy to have reconnected and felt that the years had melted away; the only bone of contention was when the bill arrived.

"I'll get it," Hermione reached for her purse.

"No, I insist," the Bulgarian covered her hand with his own and used his other to pull the bill towards himself.

"You have British money with you?" she asked, somewhat sceptical.

"Of course," he shrugged. "Ve are staying in one of London's finest hotels, not the _Leaky Cauldron_ ," he added with a confident smile. To prove it he produced a wallet crammed with red fifty-pound notes.

"In that case, Mr Krum," she grinned, "thank you for dinner."

* * *

"So," the Bulgarian asked with a confident smile as they left the restaurant, "your place or mine?"

His inference wasn't hard to read; it did pose a question for Hermione though. "I thought you had a fiancée," she observed inquisitively, recalling what she'd read, and heard via gossiping witches in the Ministry whenever his name made the _Daily Prophet_ ; he just shrugged.

"She is in Bulgaria; vat she doesn't know vill not hurt her."

Hermione could think of a million reasons, not least the Bulgarian girl waiting at home, why she should slap the man for that and just leave him standing in the middle of non-magical London but sometimes even she got, and succumbed to, baser urges. _Besides_ , she told herself by way of convincing herself that it wasn't such a bad idea, _he has the game tomorrow, maybe I can wear him out._ A smile played on her face as she thought _Time to take one for the team, Granger_. While the idea of a night in a plush hotel was appealing, she also felt that a little more privacy might just help this evening. "Mine," she said simply, dragging him into an empty alcove between two parades of shops, away from prying eyes, and then locking lips with him as she apparated them away.

 _Department of International Magical Co-operation,_

 _Ministry of Magic_

"Ah, Deputy Minister," Lestrange got to his feet as Frank Longbottom entered the room. "Good of you to join us, though I suspect this means Minister Potter..?"

"He won't be joining us," Frank shook his head. "Even on a Friday afternoon the Minister has many demands on his time." _Particularly when a Deputy Minister has been sent from abroad_ he thought as he eyed the foreign delegation.

"This is… disappointing," the Bulgarian Ambassador commented irritably.

"Now, now," the Bulgarian Deputy Minister counselled, "Minister Oblansk has at least as many calls on his own time; after all," he smiled, "that is why I'm here instead."

"Really?" Frank asked with quiet scepticism. The Bulgarians shifted a little in their seats but kept the discomfort from their faces as the _official_ complaint has yet to be made.

"Perhaps, Deputy Minister," Lestrange sought to quell the tension, "you could explain why our guests have been invited here this afternoon."

"Of course," he nodded before turning to them. "Early on Tuesday morning we apprehended two Magicals in a non-magical area of London; they had used magic against a number of non-magical people, including members of their Law Enforcement agency. Given the severity of this risk to the Statute of Secrecy – a statute, I should remind you, that is enforced by the ICW – they have been in our custody since then. They claimed to be Bulgarian and demanded to speak with you, but, lacking any identification, it took us a little while to confirm this – and, as we still have no official ID of them we're still not certain. So, Mr Deputy Minister, Mr Ambassador, I'm hoping that you can advise us as to whether you know of any of your magicals who are currently in Britain but unaccounted for, along with reasons as to why your people, if of course they are, would be jeopardising our entire _world_ through their flagrant violation of the Statute of Secrecy."

"I see," the Ambassador frowned, trading a dark look with his Deputy Minister. He, of course, knew of the planned invasion but was not eager to have this investigated too thoroughly. "May I begin by saying that I'm disappointed that you didn't contact us earlier, when they first identified themselves as Bulgarian."

"We did not see fit to waste your time without reasonable grounds that they were being truthful about their nationality," Frank returned. His opposite number nodded.

"A fair argument," he conceded. "Now that you believe you _have_ identified them, may we speak to them?"

"You may, in the presence of one of our Aurors. That is British law and they are still our prisoners."

The Bulgarians traded dark looks, though it was clear that this policy would not be waived.

"Very well," the Ambassador sighed. "Take us to them. Oh, in answer to your question, we know of _no_ Bulgarians, other than our diplomatic staff, of course, who have travelled directly to your country though with the new rules regarding travel in the muggle world, it is possible some have travelled by means that we have not detected. Our Magical Passport list would have updated itself had they come here by magical means."

"Very well," Frank nodded, not expecting to get an admission that they were here on governmental orders.

"Before we go," the Bulgarian Deputy withdrew a scroll from his robes; he handed it to Lestrange, "my government formally protests against Britain's continued refusal to hand over the criminal Harry Potter to us for trial. We reiterate our demand that he be surrendered into our custody immediately."

"I shall see that the Minister gets it," Lestrange worked hard to keep the glee from his voice and features; Frank looked away, unable to keep the anger from his face at the demand. "Now, Deputy Minister Longbottom will take you to the Law Enforcement Department so you can meet your countrymen."

 _Interview Room 2_

Tonks brought the two prisoners to the room; she remained stood with her back leaning against the door while the Bulgarian officials conversed with their countrymen. The Auror had secreted a special dictaquill on her person; it was charmed to take notes with a quick-drying ink and also super-sensitive to the hushed talks between lawyers and clients. Of course, the notes it took would all be in Bulgarian, the others in the room opting to use their native tongue both for convenience and privacy, but there would be _somebody_ who could translate it, even if it meant buying a non-magical dictionary and doing so by hand. What she _could_ tell was that this was quite a heated conversation.

"Did you get everything?" Bones asked as Tonks left the room; the metamorphmagus shrugged.

"I set the Dictaquill going, I got what was said – I _think_ – I didn't understand a word of it," she admitted. "I'll find some way of getting this translated and take it from there."

"Good," Bones nodded. "Oh, and Tonks," she called as her underling prepared to walk off, "don't forget this is _strictly_ off the record."

Tonks nodded. They were gathering plenty of intel on what the Empire may or may not be planning, aided by the information the Minister had obtained from Regulus, but the methods were certainly somewhat questionable and definitely not something they wanted to have to admit to in front of the Wizengamot. It would have to stay _well_ away from the Minister until they had sufficient information obtained by "acceptable" methods.

"You can rely on me," she assured her boss; Bones' response was a curt nod as she left.


End file.
